


Path of a Calling

by semiiramiis (HikaruAdjani)



Series: Ascension [2]
Category: Aion (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikaruAdjani/pseuds/semiiramiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Ascension... When her beloved guardian goes missing in combat, nothing will keep Moriah from going after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Not so long ago, this had seemed like a sanctuary. Not a home, precisely, because Moriah had one of those already, but a place devoted to growing her into what she was fated to become.

Somewhere along the way, it had become stagnant. Smug. Smothering, and she couldn't place a finger on exactly when, and how, that had happened. Now was even worse, it felt like a cage. A very pretty cage, a very comfortable cage, but a cage nonetheless. Her teachers spoke of maturity, of transitions, of focus, and it seemed that lately Moriah had neither maturity nor focus.

It was an odd feeling, because until this, she'd always been accused of being too focused. Too mature for her admitted youth. Too adult. Yet here she was, staring vaguely into the dancing motes in front of her, her attention miles away from her teacher's lecture.

Something is not right.

She frowned, puzzled over the thought. It had been a long time since she felt the touch of destiny upon her. It was as if that had all vanished when she had ascended. She was supposed to be closer to Aion as one of its daevas, but there had been little evidence of that since she had sprouted wings. But now, it spoke again, and it seemed to speak contrary to those who were charged with her guidance.

Leave.

Leave here? It was insanity. Pure foolishness. So many fought, studied, waited to be accepted here, and she considered leaving it like it was nothing. Wasting it. The chance of a lifetime, and for an immortal, that was a terrible thing to lose.

This is not the place for you.

Not the place for her. Moriah glanced out of the window next to her, unaware that she wrinkled her nose pensively. Here wasn't right? Where would be more right than here? Everyone she knew, everyone she trusted, all agreed that there was no place better for Moriah than the finest place of learning her calling had.

But they aren't Aion.

Truly enough. For all of their grandeur, those who surrounded her were not Aion itself. For all of their pride, they were merely the servants. It seemed to Moriah as though they often forgot that, but that had always remained firm in her heart. She was a daeva. She was a servant. She was a tool. A weapon. She dropped her gaze to her desk before her, to the hand grasping the still stylus before her. While it was lovely, fingers adorned with rings and gems, its purpose was obvious. Her claws folded in, curved and lethal, black as the hair on her head. It had felt wrong to blunt them as so many here did, so she left them as they grew. It had been awhile since she'd even noticed them, so much a part of her, but they were longer than usual, their darkness deeper. She rested her index finger on her desk, warily pulling it down the battered surface.

A pale line appeared in the wood, and she frowned at the vandalism…and at the edge they'd attained. "You and I, we are weapons, Moriah." It seemed as if those words had come so long ago. She had lost sight of that truth. She had let them lead her away…

No. You have learned a great deal here. Lessons you need. Steps on the path to your Calling. But it is time to go. For now.

"Moriah!"

She hissed in guilt, tearing her eyes from the surface of her desk and up to her teacher. His voice hinted that this was not the first time he'd called her name, she'd ignored the earlier times. "Yes, Master Harven?" She stuttered, feeling the stare of her classmates upon her.

"Ah, yes, springtime in Pandaemonium." He breathed with a chuckle, not a hint of anger or exasperation in his bearing. "The answer to…." He pointed at the slate board beside him and her gaze flicked to it. Thankfully, she did indeed know the answer to the question written out there, knew it quickly and without conscious thought.

He smiled at her, and she frowned. If only he knew what was going on in her head, he wouldn't have that benign smile. Springtime? Was it that simple? No. This was more than just youth and confinement acting up. This was a draw that became a push… left alone, it would become a torrent. She should tell them, but they'd just try to argue and logic their way out of it. Moriah should stay here, safe in Pandemonium. Absolutely safe and untouchable in the Convent. Preened and pruned to be a great cleric, as her calling dictated.

That calling is a duty, a responsibility. And that calling…calls.

She jumped in her seat when the bells finally sounded, obliterated quickly by the sound of chairs squeaking. The explosion of conversation would start once the students were out in the hallway, Harven was a firm teacher. No speaking in his room unless it was class work…

She grasped the straps of her bag, slinging it over her back. It was indeed a lovely day, warm for spring, the trees in a glut of lavender flowers. "You staying?"

Moriah barely identified the questioner, and knew what the question was a lead in to. No, Moriah was not staying here, in her cell, as she normally did, but she was not planning on an invite to any sort of fun. "Going home." She admitted slowly, uncertain as to why. Home was empty. She'd be alone. Maybe that's what she needed, the time to reflect and understand this.

"Ah. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." The girl offered with a big smile, and Moriah sent her a faint one back in response.

Pandaemonium was lovely, and her steps lightened as she made her way into Crandale's warren of shadowed streets and sudden cul de sacs. It was too nice a day to be so somber, even if the house she was going to was empty…

She easily worked the lock and let herself in. She heard the voices before it even settled in that she had done so with great stealth, and she had pulled back into the foyer corner instead of moving onto the carpet.

"Tell her? We can't tell her!"

Moriah bit her lip, falling even further back, obscured by the heavy fall of dark curtains. Annlyn, here? Why? Tell who, what? If she craned, she could catch a glimpse of her guardian's sister standing in the library. Yes, definitely Annlyn. And Annlyn was definitely disturbed. Truly disturbed, not the fashionable flighty edge of panic the woman often cultivated.

"Eventually, Moriah is going to hear this, Annlyn. Who do you want her to hear it from? You? Me? Or someone on the streets? Some well meaning acquaintance offering support?"

If it was possible, Moriah would have retreated further, but she already had the iron latch of the window behind her digging into her shoulder. Balder? Pandaemonium's high priest, here? In Rasmus's house? In hers? Talking about her, to Annlyn. What was it she should know, but obviously didn't?

"She'll become so distracted, her studies will suffer…." Annlyn sought refuge in logic, and it was an ill fit for her.

"No. She'll leave the Convent." Balder lacked the fluster; his words were like a foundation, rock steady.

"That's even worse!" Annlyn's voice rose sharply. "It's bad enough we can't find Ras, but to lose Moriah out there looking for him would be double the sin. She'll go after him!"

Moriah's world stilled, wrapped in dark velvet, the faint gleam of light behind her. Ras? Gone? That was an emptiness, a lack, a loss that she had never, ever considered. He was there. Like the sky was there, always. He'd saved her, twice, and now he was gone? He was all the family she had…

"Of course she will go after him." Balder replied inexorably. "He's gone after her, she'll return the debt. Even if there was no debt, she loves him."

"There's a big difference between Ras and Moriah." Annlyn growled. Balder's response must have been a motion or an expression, or there was no response, because she continued. "Ras is a trained combatant. Moriah is a child. A priest. She's not…"

"Moriah is an ascended daeva. We knew she would ascend, and we gave her the benefit of years of training before she came through. And now, she has had the finest training we could offer a priest. Annlyn, like it or not, her training is as impressive, or more so, than just about any priest we have on the line."

"She has no experience…"

"And the only way she will get that is to fight."

"You make it sound as if you want her to go after him." Annlyn's tone was bluntly accusatory, and Moriah flinched. That was not the way one spoke to the High Priest….

"No, Annlyn, I do not want her to go after him. But to fight this is to fight a losing battle. Everything we prize in Moriah will send her after your brother. If she does not go, then I have misjudged her soul."

"She's just a baby." Annlyn mourned, "I can't tell her. Maybe if we wait just a little bit longer…we have people looking for Ras's unit…."

Moriah glared at the gilt edging on the curtains. Of course, Annlyn wanted to wait. Let someone else try to fix it, all the while leaving Moriah in coddled safety in the Convent, blissfully ignorant.

"I'm being called to the front, Moriah." Ras's hand had been heavy on her shoulder, his presence comfort personified. "I'll be back before you know it. Keep your studies up…"

Back before she knew it… No. It had been months, but she'd been so secure that they'd never lie to her that his absence, and yes, his lack of communication, had not seemed that odd, until now. Time flowed differently for the immortal, a realization that Moriah had thought she was finally starting to grasp. Before she knew it, to a daeva of Ras's age, could mean a year or two… or so she'd thought. But no, the two were in agreement. He was missing. He was somewhere in the Abyss.

Go away. She glared at the fragment of Annlyn she could see through the barely ajar door. Now that she knew, she had preparations to make. But to make them, these two had to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

And when they left, they'd go out that door, right next to her. She half entertained the idea of a confrontation; after all, they'd tried to hide this from her. Well, Annlyn had. But a confrontation would prove that she knew. And if Annlyn knew that, she'd be watched. Getting out of here would become all too difficult then. Annlyn had plenty of kinah, and knew all the right people, that combination would put an assassin on her back mane faster than Moriah could say boo. It was going to be difficult enough…

Annlyn's attention was still firmly planted on Balder, so Moriah took a deep breath and moved quickly out of her view, up the stairs, and vanished into the safest place possible… Rasmus's rooms. Just to be careful, she slid her bag, and finally herself, under his bed and waited. And waited.

She knew from experience that the house was old, and sturdy… noises didn't carry at all from the ground floor. She waited until the pale light dimmed into twilight before she took a deep breath and crawled out. She heard nothing, but that meant little. Annlyn was stealthy, small framed, her foot claws purposefully blunted, she had a bad habit of popping up at the least opportune moment. Although it had never been spoken, Moriah had the sinking suspicion that the calling the woman had turned her back on was that of an assassin. Little else seemed to fit her, but Rasmus remained darkly silent whenever any conversation turned to his sister's lack of value or what she might have become. He loved Annlyn, and normally that was enough for Moriah. Moriah could not say the same, Annlyn was usually a force she merely tolerated, too full of empty desires… Money. Clothes. Powerful lovers. Parties. The world struggled around her, and her only struggle was how she appeared to that world. Moriah didn't know how to handle Annlyn, and the years she'd spent here had never shown her a way to comprehend the woman.

Annlyn has value. She is a resource, but one you should not give too much weight to.

Probably. And the least fact remained the same….Annlyn was Ras's sister. Ras loved her. And Moriah loved him. She took a long look around his roof, pensive and silent. Home. She didn't want to leave it, but there was a deeper truth… it wasn't home without Ras. And, at the very bottom of it all, this was his home first.

She crept into the hallway, inching along. Unlike the whisper thin Annlyn, Moriah was physically imposing, and had long since grown into her height. She was taller than Ras, taller than all but the tallest of men. Her claws clicked ominously on the bare sections of the floors, and she glared at her own feet. Nothing blunted there…. In her dreams, Moriah saw them as not only this lethal, curving length, but capped with razor edged metal.

And it is time for those dreams to become reality.

A pause at the top of the stairs…the house still had a bated, empty silence. They really were gone. That ascertained, Moriah stepped into stride, moving down the hallway to her rooms at the opposite end of the house from Ras's. What would she need?

They were just as she'd left them, and she gazed around. The first part was the easiest, Moriah's most valuable possession rested in the chest at the foot of her bed. She pulled it out, placing it gently on the desk and lighting a lamp to study it.

"Moriah. I gave great thought as to what would be the right gift. It kept coming back to this. Congratulations, and welcome to our numbers, cleric." It was beyond exorbitant, a gift beyond compare, and she rested her claw tips on the orichalcum plate inlaid in its top… She didn't need the dim light to read the inscription; it was simple and long since memorized: "To Moriah, from Rasmus, with all my love."

It was not just any Cube; Moriah could have bought one from any number of artisans throughout Pandemonium. No, Rasmus had travelled into the Abyss for this, to the shugo artisans so far away. He'd brought them orichalcum, asvata, balaur bone, and the finest of gems for its construction, and then, as if that was not enough, paid handsomely for its crafting. It was blatantly, horrifically expensive and she contemplated it. Perhaps it would be foolish to bring it. No, she dismissed that idea almost before it had formed. It needed a cover, leather, to obscure what it was, but she needed it. Once she had made her way far from Pandemonium, and all of those who would tattle to Annlyn, she would need all of the things she'd been given to be that cleric she was supposed to be. Armor. Weapon. Cube. She had the best, and the best was supposed to keep her intact. The Abyss was no joke… She wasn't truly, totally and completely, immortal. If she was, if Ras was, then retrieving him would not be such a high priority… he could just commit suicide, reappear at the obelisk that his soul knew as home, and walk away. But ascended souls could travel only so far to reach their homes, and her education told her that the Abyss was a vast and confusing place.

She opened the Cube, and began to pack all of those items that said Moriah was a fine cleric, supported by Pandemonium, competent, valued and valuable. She blew out the light, picked up the Cube, and moved onto the streets of Crandale. The sooner she vanished, the better, and she was familiar with this section of Pandemonium. There were things she needed, unobtrusive clothing, supplies, a cover for the Cube, and those claw caps….

Although it was dark, Crandale still buzzed with activity, and Moriah relaxed. It was rare to find Annlyn or any of her cronies here, and that possibility dwindled further as it became later. Those sorts preferred the grace of Vanahal to this area, and Moriah should be free to do her shopping in peace. But where to begin?

The bazaar would be open the latest, the place to find the unobtrusive clothing she needed, and many of the survival goods as well. Those could be purchased from any number of sources in Crandale, but the claw caps, no. Jeweler? Weaponsmith? For the life of her, Moriah had no idea…but there were always ways to find out.

She moved through the streets, dodging other daevas, the unascended, and shugos about their business, finally ending up on the steps of Rasmus's favored jeweler. If he couldn't do it, he'd know who could…

The bell rang over her head when she pushed the door open, and Sturgin glanced up, his dour glare fading into a suddenly welcoming smile. "Ah." He greeted, pushing his jeweler's lenses up and unfolding his body. "Young Moriah. Alone. Well, it had to happen sometime. What are you looking for this night?"

"I need my claws done."

Exasperation and doubt replaced the greeting in the daeva's eyes, and he plopped the lenses back down on his nose and hunched back over the piece he was working on. "Do I look like a Vanahal salon where pretty young ones get their claws done?" He asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Noooo." Moriah returned, nonplussed and embarrassed. "I just don't know where to ask…"

"Annlyn. I'm sure she knows a very expensive and exclusive place that will be happy to trim and paint lovely designs on your pretty toes."

"But that's not what I'm looking for." Moriah stammered, and he fixed her with another stare, before he finally sighed and stood again.

"Then, young Moriah, ward of Rasmus, what exactly are you looking for?" He gestured at the darkened cases around him. "I've made rings for your ears. Clasps for your hair. Necklaces…"

"I want claw caps. Edged. I…." She took a deep breath, but no one would be further from Annlyn's circle of friends than this one, "I'm going into the Abyss. After Rasmus. When I see myself, I see…"

Sturgin sighed, resting his lenses on the counter beside him and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So someone finally let that one drop to you. Annlyn was doing her best to hide it, I'll have you know. You want claw knives… then I apologize. You have come to the correct place, and I'd be proud to do them, if possible." He motioned to the stool he had just come off of, "Up, and let me see if you've got the claws for them."

Moriah wasn't quite certain just what 'the claws for them' was, but the dreams all agreed that she got them, so surely that meant that she did? The man grasped her ankle, splaying her claws, then chuckled.

"No problem, little one. Long, sharp, and strong, the knives will go on well. Let's get started…"

He worked in silence, until Moriah finally got the nerve to ask the next important question that had been haunting her. With all that education, all those classes, her instructors seemed to have skipped the most basic and yet, most important piece of information.

"How do I get to the Abyss?" She asked, and he paused. She'd never been there, as a child she had been raised in a dirt camp somewhere out of Alsig. From there, she'd been to Alsig….once…. a trip she barely remembered. The only thing that really even seemed real anymore was Pandemonium.

"Return to Morheim." He finally replied, cocking his head to study his work. Moriah nodded, it would be a return, since that was broadly the area she had been born in, raised in, even if she didn't recall it well. "The ring gate to Primum is in the sky above Morheim. Primum is in the Abyss, it's our staging point. You're a healer. You'll be able to find a unit down one of those there, talk yourself into their ranks. You have a Cube?"

She pulled it by its embroidered strap, resting it in her lap. "I need to have a cover made for it…but yes…"

He glanced at it, snorted, shook his head, and went back to working. "Boy has amazingly fine taste." He muttered. "A simple Cube, not enough. No, he had to go to Black Cloud for yours. Definitely, cover that. Primum is not nearly as civilized as Pandemonium, Moriah. Be cautious. Listen to your heart. Aion leads you well, young cleric….and, you're done."

Moriah swallowed, holding a hand up to the light. They were just as she'd seen, beautiful… engraved and set with stones, but they held a lethal promise, a sullen edge of light playing down their length. "Ahhh…." And she had no way to pay for this… They were a masterwork on the same level as the Cube.

"Don't worry, cleric." He dismissed her stammer before it even got started. "There's not much call for lovely sets of claw knifes, big bumbling templars don't want stones and pretties. They've been here forever, consider them a…gift. Just go do what Aion calls…and lock the door on your way out."

Moriah mutely nodded, shouldering the Cube strap and moving to the door. "Thank you…for everything." She murmured, and he barely glanced at her in reply.

"We are called, Moriah. Good luck."

It was much later, it had taken longer than Moriah had bargained for, many shops were closed and she moved down the streets. Was she going to have to wait until morning? She had been hoping and praying to make it to the Teleport circle and away from Pandemonium well before she was noted to have missed her first class, before Annlyn caught wind of her imminent defection. But she wasn't leaving without all of the things she needed, that seemed ill advised.

There was a small leatherworking shop open, and Moriah let herself in, smiling at the shugo behind the counter.

"Nyerk! Good evening, kind daeva!" She shrilled at Moriah. "What can I do for you this night?" She fastened bright, inquisitive brown eyes on Moriah's face, intently waiting.

"I need…a cover… for this." Moriah rested the Cube on the counter, and the shugo's tail fell, her bright eyes distressed.

"Daeva wants to hide one of Vindacherk's Cubes? Finds it…not worthy?" The high pitched question ended in an outraged and utterly saddened keening whisper. "He will be…nyerk…."

"No. I just need a cover. It's too…"

"Noticeable, nyerk." A male shugo, attracted by his mate's distress, appeared from the back room. "And the case work, too easily damaged in combat. Certainly, Daeva, I have some already made for this." He nodded sharply, spun, his tail jerking in thought, and he retreated back into the storeroom. He returned with a hardened leather box, lined in karnif fur, and gently slid the Cube into it, feeding the strap through, and clipping it closed. "There. All safe, nyerk." He chittered a chuckle. "Fifty kinah."

Moriah nodded, paid, and went through the bazaar, picking up clothes other than the lovely items that Annlyn and Rasmus clothed her in, and the all too recognizable robes of a student cleric at the Convent of Marchutan. The sky was lit with false dawn when a nearly unrecognizable Moriah finally moved out of Crandale towards the teleport circle. "Morheim." She stated calmly to the teleport master, and stepped through into a sudden deep chill.


	3. Chapter 3

Aseph was beyond frustrated. He was claw gnawing, pacing, snarlingly infuriated, with no end in sight. His duty was clear. The implementation of that duty, not quite so obvious. He hissed in rage, and half of the inhabitants of the room flinched. The other half remained still, watching him.

"General?"

That would be one of the ones who had flinched, one who wasn't one of his unit, a stranger. His own unit could cut their own throats before they'd mark him as a 'general' a target, here in the Abyss, although Primum was about as safe as the Abyss managed. They called him Aseph to his face, and behind his back.

"Go." He grumbled, turning away from them. They were useless. Hopeless. He'd manage this all by himself, as usual. He waited until he felt them gone, waited until the door was secured behind them before he leaned against the wall next to him, calming his breathing. There were three souls still in the room with him, immune to the order to leave him, those he fought with, those he lived with.

"Well, Aseph?" Soren demanded, and Aseph glanced at him, his eyes shadowed by his arm.

"We have to go after those units." Aseph growled, knowing that went without any sort of argument. They had people they'd lost, cut off when the Dredgion assault had pushed their lines so far back. Good people, some of their best. He didn't want to consider how far away the nearest obelisk was to those units now; it went without saying that the Dredgion shock troops had destroyed those in the swath they now controlled. Those units could be lost, gone forever, and that was no idea that Aseph wanted to face.

"Agreed." Soren stated evenly. "How?"

Aseph sighed, turned to face them. Their problem was obvious, and with that clarity, their response was obvious. "We have to find a healer able to keep up with us." He said, frowning. That, in itself, was asking a lot. That was asking for the best of the best, strong, and incredibly gifted… from a group that was usually kept safe and far away from forces like Aseph. The best healers either cooled their heels in Pandemonium, or were surrounded by blades in the largest legions. Asking for one that was willing to go into the depths of the Abyss with only his fast scouting unit to keep them safe was almost too much to dream of. And with this renewed push, the big legions were snapping them up as quickly as they could be trained. As soon as they showed up in Primum, they were ordered into a Legion, and were out of Aseph's grasp.

"Not here." He had calmed enough to finally start thinking. "I'm going to have to go to Asmodae to get one."

"If that's what it takes." Soren shrugged, sinking his mass into the nearest chair. "Just find one quickly, Aseph. Primum bores me."

Aseph nodded in complete agreement. Primum bored him as well, and he understood Soren's ill ease. They were here for the Balaur, for blood, not for these petty games. "It won't be that easy, Soren." He warned. Finding a cleric able to keep up with them, willing to leave Asmodae's relative safety, to go push into the Abyss backed with only a handful of daeva… the idea made Aseph's head spin.

The gladiator chuckled, bounced to his feet, and stalked up on the much smaller Aseph. "Aion smiles upon you, Aseph." The man chuckled, resting his claws on Aseph's shoulders. "If it's meant to be, you'll find us one. Now, go look for him, while we get ready."

Aseph snorted, but stepped into motion, his progress utterly silent. He was nothing more than a hint of a feeling by the time he reached the door. The closest member of his unit opened it, to let him pass, and he was gone, unnoticed, into Primum's chaos. He didn't want those who watched him to realize what he was after, to deny him what he needed. He would start in the closest place… Morheim.

Moriah frowned, once again casting a quick glance over her shoulder. She couldn't quite shake the oddest feeling that she was being watched. Scrutinized to the very pit of her soul. Weighed. Measured. Contemplated. It set her nerves on edge, and she once again let her gaze roam over the eight people in the inn with her.

Nine.

What? She frowned, and let the knowledge flow in. There were nine living bodies in the common room with her. The eight she could see, and one more, which she had to feel by measuring their life…their health. She began paring away the distractions, focusing on that bloom of obscured life. Yes, definitely. He, and it was indeed male, was healthy. Living, his body imbued with Aion's breath and blessing…a daeva. Hiding in plain sight. An Elyos spy? There was no reason why one of their own would…

No. She could feel his balance now, how he stood poised, relying on the grip of his claws for traction. Asmodean male assassin, who was either playing games, or had some valid reason to be ignored. Neither appealed to her, and she gloomily stared into her bowl. Now that she was out of Pandemonium, it seemed as the drive to move had vanished, dissipated. She had apparently thrown away the opportunity of a lifetime to sit in an inn in Morheim and mope….

Aseph froze in disbelief. She knows I'm here. How? He wished he could just overlook her focused glance in his direction, but he couldn't. He hadn't gotten this good, lived this long, by not realizing when he'd been seen. In that split second, she had made him, measured him, and then… dismissed him as a threat.

What is she? Interesting question. The obvious was indeed, obvious. Lovely Asmodean young woman, garbed in a mishmash of unmatched clothing. While all of it was worn, the patterns of the wear didn't fit her body… she had bought them used. Her glances were often furtive; she was hoping to be overlooked. She was hiding, and doing a piss poor job of it… wearing old, used clothing while her claws gleamed with gems and orichalcum. She had a Cube slung over her shoulder, and like her appearance, its appearance had an attempt at obfuscation. As if the waft of power coming out of that leather cover could be hidden.

"So. Tell me." He began, sliding onto the bar stool right next to her. As expected, she didn't squeal, jump, or even gasp at his sudden appearance. "How did you find me?"

She chuckled. "I felt you. Your life. Your health."

He digested the words silently. Certainly it couldn't be this easy? Only a cleric would be able to do what she had just claimed to do, a damn fine cleric…because he was a damn fine assassin. He tamped down a sudden rush of hope; this must be a Legion cleric, moving to meet her unit in Primum. She appeared young, but that meant little to his people. He had ascended young as well, caught forever now in the first breath of adulthood. That had been the age that Aion had claimed this one as well. She could be centuries old, and that was how she felt… he dropped his gaze to the bar.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Cleric."

She smiled. "No need to apologize." She extended a hand to him, cautiously. She wasn't used to the artificial edge on those claws yet…and her armor, clumsily hidden under her poor attempt at a disguise, was shining and new. "Moriah."

"Aseph." He gingerly accepted the gesture…the last thing he needed was to lose a few fingers to a youngling getting used to a new set of knives. There was no glimmer of recognition in her lovely golden eyes at his name. No, she wasn't a veteran he just had never had the chance to meet before; she was shiny new to this. "What brings you to Morheim, Moriah?" She was a cleric; she had not corrected him when he'd called her such…

Her lower lip tightened. "I'm going into the Abyss." She stated, an edge of defiance in her tone. Definitely not expected by any Legion… She wasn't supposed to be here, someone was missing their bright and shining very young cleric.

"Oh?" He queried, motioning to the shugo barkeep, and pointing at her. "A drink for the lady. Something hot and non alcoholic."

"Certainly, kind daeva."

Her gaze was measuring, wary, but she had calmed a little with the stipulation that the drink would not fuddle her mind. She might be young, but she was wary.

"Which is your unit?" He asked, although he guessed the answer. She had run away from somewhere, he just had to get her to admit she didn't have one. Once that was out in the open, he could start the dance.

"Unit?" She accepted the drink from the barkeep, her eyes still planted firmly on Aseph, her expression still wary. "I have…none." She finally admitted. "I will go with whichever is going the same direction I am."

That was not quite the answer that Aseph had been expecting, and he paused to consider. No unit, but she had a direction? A purpose? "Oh?" He prodded cautiously, and she nodded, pulling out a rolled scroll and dropping it before him on the bar. He opened it, scanned its contents, his heart sinking. He'd never given much thought to these, his family had been nonexistent before he'd even ascended, and the two hundred years since then had only confirmed that lack. He was alone. If he vanished, no one would be the unlucky recipient of this… the notification that a family member was lost in the Abyss.

"I want him back." She hissed, her face going vicious, her eyes lighting with rage. "If I have to go after him myself, then I will."

"Your lover?" He queried softly. He knew the young templar in question by reputation, and this was most certainly not Rasmus's vacuous female sibling. This was a young one, just as Rasmus was; lovely enough for that one's family, and shining with the same promise. They'd make a divinely blessed couple…

"No. He's my guardian." She dismissed his question very easily, and simply. No attempt at hiding. "He was lost forward of Asteria…."

"I know where he was lost." He replied, and her eyes skimmed his face. He gave her a lopsided grin in response, damn, the girl was pretty… but there was work to be done. "My name is Aseph. I command one of our fast response scout units; we'll be looking for the three lost units…"

Her brow rose. "And you're in Morheim, why?" She snapped, and his grin widened.

"Lost my cleric on our way through the core. Don't have a healer….or do I?"

"If that's where you're headed, and if you're headed there fast, then you do." She wrapped claws around her staff, and stood. He stared up, doing his best to not let his jaw drop. Seated, she had not seemed so imposing…but now, looming over him, it was obvious that she was taller than even Soren managed, and Aseph's right hand man was a big one. Aseph opened his mouth… he had questions, several of them, but she seemed in little mood to wait for him to ask. Well, she'd still have to be processed in Primum, and the personnel officer there would be quick to let him know if there were problems other than her obvious youth and inexperience. If she was not as good as she seemed to be….finding him while he was stealthed by nothing more than feeling his health…. He could just leave her to be picked up by another Legion.

"To…Primum, then." He muttered, motioning in the correct direction. She nodded, heading resolutely for the door. "Let me go through, first." He instructed, "I want my second there… there are bigger units who are looking for a cleric. But they're not heading where you are, nor are they going at any sort of speed. They'll try to turn the personnel officer to putting you with them. Say it's good for you."

It probably was good for her, but it ran contrary to her stated goals, and his. "No." She stated coldly. "I'm going after Ras. If that's where you're going, then you'll do." She glanced up, and Aseph understood that look. It was an acceptance of Aion's touch, the same certainty he was beginning to feel in his heart. This was the cleric he wanted. Any idea of going after another had faded completely.

"Give me an hour, and we'll meet you at the Landing at Primum."

She nodded, and settled herself in the chair nearest the door, her attention now completely away from the inn and its inhabitants. Certain that she would do as she was asked; Aseph left the inn, dropping into a sprint the moment his claws hit snow. A stride later, he unfurled his wings, black and gray, hooked and ominous, and took to the air. He hit the ring teleporter without pause, and Morheim's chill, calm air gave into blackness and the underlying pulsing throb always present in the Abyss. He landed, folding his wings and using his forward momentum to step into a bobbing stride, headed towards the Keep.

"Back already?" Soren asked, and Aseph shrugged. He had been gone for less than an hour; it would have taken him longer to search Primum, much less Asmodae, for a cleric.

"Aion blesses." He replied, "Get the others; she's about half an hour behind me."

"She?" The gladiator caught the pronoun, tilting his head curiously. "Who?"

"Moriah. She's a family member of one of the missing. Going after him." Aseph cut off the other questions Soren was bound to have with a quick, dismissive wave. "Get the others. Like I said, she's only about a half hour behind me. We move fast now." He wasn't in the mood to argue over this, and he could see plenty they'd find to disagree with.

"Yessir." Soren chuckled, moving away. "I'll get them, you go wait in case she comes early."

Moriah stood, staring up. She only vaguely remembered anything other than Pandemonium, and this was certainly not there. And beyond that ring dominating the horizon…the Abyss. She pondered the distance, like every daeva, she possessed wings. She could fly, but her occasions to actually fly had been rare. If it was anyone but Ras, she'd go home in a heartbeat, but…

She unfurled her wings, exulting in their weight and luxury. All she had to do was fly, and meet the assassin in Primum. She frowned at the idea. She didn't know him, except for his word and a simple name. And he certainly did not look trustworthy… she had never seen a daeva look less trustworthy. He was scrawny. Feral, with an intent, predatory stare. Small, the top of his head even with her collarbone. While he didn't seem unbathed, he just managed to seem not quite…clean.

Appearances are deceiving. That one has the soul of a great hero wrapped in the most unlikely of shells. Like you, he was born in low circumstances.

"Hhmph." Moriah breathed her discontent into the wind, then shook it away. Enough. It was time to repay a favor; it was time to go after Ras. She hopped into the air, feeling her wings catch lift, and Morheim fell away from her.

"We have a cleric?" Petric sounded dubious, and Aseph didn't blame him. He'd been gone only a couple of hours, and now he thought he had a cleric ready, willing and able to take this job?

"Yes." He answered the gloomy spiritmaster, his gaze fixed on the ring beyond the edge of the Landing. "There." He felt her appearance more than saw it…she was Asmodean, her coloring blended with the shadows of the Abyss. She finally became visible and he studied her approach. She had a big wingspread, and a powerful flight, he'd been a little afraid she'd come out of the ring disoriented and weak. But no, she flew straight and fast, dropping out of the sky to land next to Aseph. Petric raised a brow, and Soren blinked in obvious amazement. Tebber grinned, and she stared back uncertainly at the group.

"Soren, Petric, and Tebber. Gladiator, spiritmaster and ranger. This is Moriah, our new cleric." Her wings vanished in a puff of shed feathers, and Tebber picked one of them up, studying it, before tucking it away and gazing mildly back at Aseph and Moriah when the pair stared. "In case I need to find her." He stated calmly, and Aseph nodded. The ranger was a very close second in 'finding people' to him, and he would be comforted knowing that Tebber had what he needed to make a search easier…if it was necessary.

"This way, Moriah." The sooner they were out of Primum, the better.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Moriah just a few seconds to understand that she didn't like the Abyss. Actually, that was putting it mildly. It was an unease bordering on hatred. That moment, coming out of the ring into nothingness, had been one of the most sickening feelings she'd ever experienced. Primum was only slightly better, it was acceptably firm ground, buildings, but the sky was still black, and the very air throbbed discordantly. She was used to looking up, with Elysia spread out over her. The gleam of lights, and the spire of the Tower reaching up towards the other side. She had been taught about the Abyss, the shattering of the world, and the loss of the Tower, she knew that, likewise, the Elyos in Elysia looked up and saw Asmodae's lights above them. But this, the shattered no man's land between them, was stark and nauseating.

"Personnel officer is this way." The small assassin grasped her elbow, nudging her forward. She wanted to pull back, but the push to go, to find Ras, was building again. She understood that she had been waiting…waiting for this one to turn up…and now that he had, it was time to move again. She looked down at him. Now that her view was changed by the voice in her heart's conception of this one, he didn't seem quite as undesirable as he had seemed originally.

The soul of a great hero.

He, like so many Asmodians, had black hair. Unlike Moriah's shining dark locks, his was coal black, lacking luster, left to hang straight, pushed behind his long and pointed ears. His features were thin, feral, edging towards fiendish. His chin was coated in a thin stubble that shadowed his neck, but left his cheeks naked. His only nod at any attempt at personal ornamentation was a strand of hair from each temple, gathered at his throat like a necklace. It had been braided, and had beads interspersed along it, but other than that, there was nothing. His hands were bare. His ears were bare. His armor was well worn unto shabby, too dull to be considered black. He reeked of disreputability, and his companions held that up as well. Only the gladiator even remotely looked like the sort she would have had anything to do with back at home…

"Moriah. The personnel officer." The assassin…Aseph?... gave her a slight push in the correct direction, and she gazed down at the man sitting behind his desk. Well, public servants looked like…public servants. This one looked no different than any guard posted in Pandemonium and it was a relief to recognize something, anything….

"New one, eh, Aseph? Don't recognize this one. What is she?"

There were so many answers to that; Moriah didn't know where to begin. The most obvious was an Asmodian. The second was a daeva, but the question was not directed at her.

"Cleric." The assassin answered back, and a flurry of expressions crossed the man's face. "Don't even start." Aseph interrupted before the man began on whatever he was considering. "I didn't get her from Primum… I went to Asmodae for a cleric."

"Is she even on the Rolls, Aseph?"

The assassin gave her just the tiniest glance before settling an outraged glare on the personnel officer. "Of course she's on the Rolls."

She was? Moriah had no idea just what these Rolls were, and whether she was on one or not. Her answer was to stare impassively down at the bureaucrat, choosing the large and silent response. Let the assassin do the talking, he seemed to know what he was talking about. "Eh, fine." The man sighed, picking up a large, leather bound tome and dropping it on the table in front of him. "Your name and calling, girl?"

"My name is Moriah, and I am a cleric." Hadn't Aseph already answered at least half of that?

"And your training was where?" There was a near baiting quality to the man's questions that Moriah did not appreciate, and by the expressions of the group with her, she was not the only one.

"Which training?" Moriah asked warily, there had been so much of it…. Her answer only amused the bureaucrat, but the assassin bit off of a curse, just a syllable too late. His companions looked exasperated, and that exasperation was aimed squarely….not at her…but at the assassin.

The bureaucrat sighed, leaned back in his chair, and gave her a benign smile. "Your clerical training, darling."

Now flustered and disturbed, Moriah could feel a sudden flush rise in her cheeks. "Which part?" She repeated, and the man's condescension deepened. He only waved with his stylus, and she sighed. "My core training was in the Great Temple….Pandaemonium, under Balder. Most recently, the Convent of Marchutan… Where I've spent the past seven years…"

The man dropped the stylus. The assassin began to chuckle, which deepened into a laugh. His compatriots relaxed, the ranger whistling between his teeth and gazing pointlessly at the wall next to him. "She's on the Rolls, Humbert. Find her, get her to sign, and stop wasting my time." Aseph snapped, and the man nodded, turning his attention to the vellum pages before him. "Moriah, ward of Rasmus… from the Crandale District of Pandaemonium." He finally sighed. "Cleric. Released from training with full marks. Unattached, in advanced training at the Convent of Marchutan." He turned the book, pointing at the appropriate passage with an ink stained claw. "Is that you?"

"Yes." Moriah barely glanced at the page.

"You've left the Convent." That was a statement that Moriah was not going to dignify with a response. Obviously she had…she was here. "Sign here to accept transfer to his unit." The man gestured vaguely in Aseph's direction, and she carefully penned her name in the correct place.

"Tebber. Take her to our rooms, and go over her equipment. Make absolutely certain that there's nothing she needs before we go." Aseph ordered, and the ranger grinned, motioning at the girl to follow him. Aseph could feel Soren's intent stare, but he waited for Tebber and Petric to lead the girl away before he turned. "What?"

"She's spent the past seven years in a convent in Pandaemonium." Soren's voice fell into a singsong of disbelief. "Aseph?"

"She's a cleric." Aseph muttered stubbornly, glaring towards the direction they would go in…Towards Asteria, and then…farther, into nothingness. "Better damn cleric than any around here. Soren, she can feel me when I'm invisible…"

"What?"

Aseph shrugged. After what she'd just said, he felt somewhat better about that. She'd been counted fine enough to be accepted into the finest place of learning her calling had. Good enough to have stayed there for seven whole years. He would have been impressed if she just claimed the Great Temple, and the High Priest, but no… she trumped that. He'd heard whispered tales of what the clerics trained in the Convent could manage, and now he had some grasp of that truth. "She wants her guardian back. We need a cleric. It's…." He placed his claws over his heart and shrugged. "We take care of her, get our people back, her guardian, and turn her over to him when we find him."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Aseph." The man sighed. "That one…"

Aseph nodded, moving in the direction that they had left in…back for their rooms. That one had trouble written all over her. It was bad enough she was linked to that family… if not by blood, then by connections. They had money. They knew everyone there was to know. They moved in the highest circles of Pandaemonium society. And now, to realize she was known and connected to the highest circles of the priesthood as well…

"I've gone through what she's carrying." Tebber stated without greeting, as soon as Aseph and Soren appeared in the anteroom.

"She has a big Cube." Aseph noted cautiously… and the ranger snorted.

"She has one of Vindacherk's. She's carrying an entire shugo supply outpost, food, gear, you name it. And absolutely none of it silly. The closest to that are her robes, but even those might be useful. She has room to carry a lot more, but she's good to go."

Good. Aseph nodded…where they were heading she was going to need it, and then some. "Fill up the rest… flight potions and kisks. Remember we're on a relief run." He sighed. At least the girl came with a good Cube…their last cleric hadn't. He'd carried a backpack, of all things, and the distance they were going to be flying to get past Asteria…no. He wanted them as light as possible.

"She's a big girl." He said to Soren's dubious look. "Has one hell of a wingspan on her."

"I noticed."

"She'll carry her own weight." Aseph said, and the gladiator finally let a shadow of a smile cross his face.

"And then some, with that Cube."

Moriah cringed, trying to not look down. Aseph strutted up and down the railing, apparently unaware that the other side opened into miles of nothing. Plainly visible to his side, a series of rings stretching towards the horizon… Moriah recognized them even though she had never seen them. They converted aetheric energy, and would allow her to fly faster along their pathway. Why hadn't she paid more attention in class? She barely flew, choosing to move along the streets rather than unfurling her wings. This was a mistake…

Aseph was staring at her as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud, and the oddest thought roamed through her mind, so disjointed that she was amazed at its birth. Although he looked rather like an overgrown rodent, he had striking eyes. They were steel gray, calm and level, uptilted slightly at their corners. "Don't worry, Moriah. It comes naturally."

Right. Naturally. She carefully climbed onto the railing beside him, and unfurled her wings. He nodded encouragement, and then took the step off of the railing. He was followed by the spirit master; the agreement was that she would take the middle. She took a deep breath, and launched herself into the air. Just follow them, perfectly easy. And it was perfectly easy. Just like he said, it came naturally. Although it was disturbing to look down…and down…and down into nothingness, Moriah flew like she'd been born to, lifted on a great expansive of black and crimson wings. She was finally doing it…she had left Pandaemonium, left the Convent and the careful watch of her masters, and was in the Abyss. She was a daeva, one of those called to do Aion's bidding.

Aseph glanced back to check on his new cleric's progress. He would have heard if she falling back, but he was surprised to see she was close on his toes. She flew like Soren did, with great sweeping beats of her wings, and he allowed himself a small smile. Crossing the Abyss like this was not easy, and it was only going to get more difficult. They knew the easiest pathways, where to aim for, where to land and rest at this close to Primum. He had a fairly good idea of the correct course all of the way to Asteria… Tebber knew the route better, but after that, it all became very uncertain. If she wasn't a strong flyer, they would have to leave her, but that didn't seem to be a concern here.

Moriah was growing concerned. It seemed like she had been flying, to nowhere, forever, just following Aseph. There were no landmarks to follow, but he seemed confident in his orienteering. No, what had her bothered was the fact she had passed tired an hour ago, but there was no sign of anything, and she was finally beginning to feel…fear. What happened when she couldn't fly anymore? She would just fall…forever? Could she fall all of the way to Elysia?

"Moriah?" Soren asked from beside her, and she glanced at him. "Is there a problem?"

She almost lied, gave him a breezily confident negative, but Moriah was always too honest. "How much….farther?" She finally asked, and he gave her a slight smile.

"Not much farther. We're almost to our stopping point for this leg; you've done just fine… in fact… There it is."

Moriah squinted and was completely underwhelmed. It was a chunk of floating rock, with a flat space roughly the size of Ras's library floor. She almost thought she felt it shudder when they landed on it, but she had to write that off as worry run rampant.

"Good. Good." Aseph stated, and Moriah collapsed on her back, staring up into the blackness beyond.

"There has got to be an easier way." She mourned, and he chuckled, squatting beside her. He touched her shoulder, just the faintest graze of his claws against the fabric covering her armor.

"There is, normally. We're going the…. imaginative….way around." He stated, sitting gracelessly next to her. "With this Dredgion push, I'm not sure who controls what. I'd hate to pop out at Eastern Latesran only to realize we don't control it anymore."

"You think the Balaur…?"

He shrugged, staring up. "The Balaur are pushing hard. The Elyos have to go somewhere. We have to go somewhere. Our job is to find our people, get them kisks, and let the main force know where they're going for the full scale relief. I want to avoid Balaur. Elyos. And any Asmodian legions who would like to impress me for the duration, but you…you need to get some sleep."

While that sounded both undoable and utterly delightful, Moriah knew better. "What's the watch schedule?" She demanded, and he shook his head.

"Not a chance, until you're ready for it. Right now we're asking a lot of you to fly like this; you'll do it tomorrow on a full sleep."

Moriah sighed, and delved in her Cube, dragging out her bedroll. She wrapped herself up in it, knowing she was too excited to sleep…..

Aseph shrugged when Soren glanced over at the sudden silence. "She's asleep." He stated the obvious, and the gladiator laughed, moving over to sit on her other side. "You found a Pandaemonium trained cleric in less than an hour…how?"

"She was waiting in Morheim when I arrived. Stuck out like a sore thumb." Aseph looked down. She was dead to the world asleep, and he sighed. "She's probably too young for this."

"No probably about it, but…" Soren grinned, "We all start somewhere. And if she is called to be a healer, then why not out here? What use is a healer in Pandaemonium? They have plenty. And, she's gentle on the eyes."

That was putting it mildly. "She is, at that." He agreed easily enough. The girl was lovely; however, he was well aware he was not. "As is her so called guardian." That was something he had doubts about, even if the Rolls agreed that Rasmus was her 'guardian'. She was a very lovely example of female Asmodian. Rasmus was a very fine example of a male, handsome, strong, brave, and from one of the finest families in Pandaemonium.

Soren nodded. "Rasmus is lost beyond Asteria? That's a shame. He's a good man. And yes, I see what you mean, Aseph. They would make a fine couple. We just watch…and admire."

Aseph nodded. Yes, watch her from afar, and admire.

Moriah woke to a grinding noise and a barely noticeable yet head pounding throb. She had been asleep…on the ground…something that hadn't happened in decades. A vault of blackness greeted her when she opened her eyes, and she remembered where she was, and why. Her bed roll was between two others, and the grinding noise came from the lump on her left.

"He snores." Soren stated the obvious when she sat up and stared in bemusement at the still assassin bundled in his bedroll. "If he's not, then he's only faking being asleep. Don't bother to complain, though."

"Why?" Moriah asked, wiggling out and moving towards him. He had food…that verged on being warm, even though there was no sign of a firepit.

"He'll deny it until he's blue in the face and has you convinced you're wrong." Tebber replied, handing her some of the food.

"I….see." She chuckled, sitting beside him.

"So you are Rasmus's ward." Soren sighed, glancing into the blackness, towards the direction they were travelling in, and Moriah nodded slowly. Although she was past the legal age of consent, Rasmus was all the family she had. If she disputed his guardianship, then he had no label at all, and she couldn't swallow that. There should be some term to describe it, but there wasn't.

"I am."

He nodded. "If anybody can find him, Aseph can. He doesn't look like much, but he's the best assassin I've ever seen. And Tebber…." He flicked claws in the ranger's direction, and Tebber gave a bright grin in response, "The best ranger I've seen. No guarantees, but you have the best looking for him."

Moriah nodded slowly. Hopefully it was enough. A world without Ras… she wasn't certain she could swallow that. They were supposed to be immortal, damn it. If she loved someone, she wasn't supposed to lose them like this. Their relationships stagnated, became old, and were ended for that reason. The unascended dealt with death. She was not supposed to, but her teachings were full of things that walked up to the edge of that realization, but didn't quite materialize until now. How could Salintus be filled with the spirits of fallen daeva, if daeva didn't fall? Certainly, those were Elysian spirits, but the truth was there. There was no true immortality…her people, the blessed of Aion, just made a better attempt at it than the unascended.

"How can we make it there in time if we're not taking any short cuts?" She asked. If they avoided the network of rings, the teleporters…. She wasn't certain just how long it actually took to fly that far, if it was even possible, but she was sure it was longer than they had.

"We're taking shortcuts." The lump had stopped snoring some while ago, she realized, and now it spoke. Aseph crawled out, stood to his full height, and stretched luxuriously. "Just not the usual ones. I don't have any intelligence at all as to the disposition of the fortresses of the Eastern Shard and Asteria. So we'll meet up with the shugo and travel with them. They have their ways."

"Airship?" Thank goodness something made sense here. Moriah was familiar enough with shugo airships, they docked regularly at Pandaemonium. She knew some of them plied the Abyss, even going as far as Elysia….

"Exactly." He grinned, and, in spite of her mood, it was too infectious to not respond to… she felt a grudging smile fight free. "We're about two days of hard flight from a Black Cloud outpost."

Moriah nodded, that step off of this small rock seemed easier now that she understood they were flying towards a concrete target. She stood, and moved to her bedroll, feeling eyes on her. She glanced back, right into the intent gray eyes of the assassin. His grin remained unabated, even though Moriah was fairly certain a more polite man would have looked abashed if she'd caught him staring so obviously. It wasn't a cautious watch, to make certain she was safe. It was an admiring, measuring stare, and Moriah wasn't certain what to make of it. Rasmus had known her when she was a horribly gangly, awkward young one, and he still had the indulgent, loving stare of a brother when he regarded Moriah. Annlyn had pushed for Moriah to attend some of Pandaemonium's multitudinous parties, to expose her to young males who would look upon her with much less fraternal interest than Rasmus did, but Moriah had chosen to go into the Convent. There were men there, but their minds were full of their callings, focused on the priesthood. If they looked, then they did it subtly. There was nothing subtle about Aseph's attention, and Moriah was almost embarrassed that the idea pleased her. Almost. She shook out her bedding, rolled it up, and stowed in the cube. It was time to fly, again.


	5. Chapter 5

Moriah's athleticism had never been prized. Certainly there was an assumption that someone with her height, her build, would be fast. And she had grown into grace once her upward push had finally stopped, but it wasn't the same languid grace as Annlyn and all the other lovely socialites of Pandaemonium prized. It was the grace of someone able to handle nineteen hands of height with practice and ease, in spite of doorways poorly designed for it. It was the grace of a young woman who managed tiny teacups balanced between thumb and forefinger, in spite of claws.

This, however, was something entirely different. New. It had been so long since Moriah had just run. She had outdistanced the gladiator, Soren, and was giving the ranger a run for his money. She knew without looking that the assassin was shadowing her, off to one side, keeping an easy bolting pace with her. The spiritmaster trailed, but he was the physical lightweight, using magic to bridge the distance.

But why would anybody run in Pandaemonium? The city was a polite place, all gentility, grace, manners. Even children were expected to behave in public, the screaming, yelling, pushing and running rambunctiousness that Moriah remembered from her own childhood was what the common folk allowed and it had no place in the city of daevas.

She frowned at that, digging her claws in deeper as she chased Tebber. He laughed as she picked up speed, still managing to keep a good five lengths ahead of her. She knew it was futility, she was managing to keep up with him by a mix of her physical gifts and the shining health and endurance of a born cleric, but his calling's gifts would keep him ahead of her.

The one struggling was honestly the gladiator, and Moriah broke pace when she sensed he was reaching the end of his endurance. He was heavy without the armor he carried, a bulwark of muscle and metal. He could go forever, but this pace was killing him. "I'm tired." She sighed, and the assassin was there in a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes dark with concern. "Just need a break." She continued with a wavery smile, and he nodded, waving towards a flat spot.

"Of course, Moriah." He smiled, "There."

Aseph was aware he was being played, he just wasn't certain why. Moriah was hardly tired, in fact, she'd just been sorting out her legs, giving Tebber a chase, and then this sudden, breezy, snotty 'I'm tired.' And she was a poor actress, for someone who had broken their forward momentum from 'fatigue', she was more than willing to help in the grunt chores of setting up to make the meal…

"Soren was starting to lag." Petric muttered, right up behind him. "She's not tired. He is. She's trying to stop him without embarrassing him, by playing the butterfly."

Aseph glanced at his gladiator, and Petric was right. Soren had a graying tint to his face that wasn't good. He was hanging back, unwilling to help set up. He had been pushed as far as he could go, and their cleric had called it. That was what she was here for. Calmed, his temper fading, Aseph hopped into motion. He could do with his pretty cleric playing the fragile doll if she did it to save Soren face. He couldn't deal with her actually playing the fragile doll to help herself. But she seemed like a solid sort, smiling at a bashful Tebber, while he stumbled over helping her start the meal.

"We're about five hours from the outpost." Aseph stated, and the two of them nodded. From there, they could pick up an airship, intelligence as to the current disposition of the front, all things he needed before he settled on their final route to push beyond Asteria. Those two settled, he moved back to Soren, sitting on a rock beside his old friend.

"Tebber's got it bad." Soren noted with what was meant to be a laugh, but settled into a dry cough.

"So he does. At least I can see why." Moriah wasn't the first young woman to make the ranger stumble all over his feet, but she was definitely the loveliest. "Are you making it?"

Soren frowned, glared at the blank horizon, then grimaced. "Yes, Aseph, with this stop, I'll make it to the outpost. I'll thank her for it later; it's not easy for that one to play like this."

"Right. She's a solid sort." Aseph willed his gaze to go elsewhere, he caught himself watching her more than he liked. He preferred not to tease himself with things he couldn't have, and prided himself on his logical ability to judge those things. And that was definitely one. She might still be deluding herself that she was a 'ward', but Pandaemonium society would laugh at that idea. She had been pruned to be a woman lovely enough to stand beside Rasmus, even if she didn't know it yet. She was well beyond Aseph's grasp. And so far from Tebber's. It would be best if that one realized it before he made an idiot out of himself. Aseph didn't intend to do anything more than watch and enjoy the scenery and it was rather amusing to watch the girl blush when she caught him at it. Very, very precious. But this was what he protected; it was why he was a daeva. He caught Soren's knowing glance out of the corner of his eye and only shrugged.

"Aseph, you are a general." Soren noted slowly. "If you cleaned up and acted like it, she wouldn't be out of your grasp. It'd be good for your career…"

Aseph shuddered at the very idea. That was even more of a terrifying concept than crossing past Asteria without using a fortress to get there, under the watchful eyes of a Balaur push. "That girl is precious, Soren. Pandaemonium raised. I can't…"

The real problem was, now that it was pointed out to him, he possibly could. He tended to overlook the rank that his people had seen fit to bestow upon him. It was mostly an annoyance, useful only when he needed to push and browbeat someone into giving him what he wanted. He never really gave much thought to what else it could get him. "Damn you, Soren." He growled and the gladiator laughed.

"Just warning you, if you keep staring, she may try to take you up on it, Aseph."

Moriah was used to shugos. Pandaemonium was full of them, busily going about their business. She was not used to shugo like these, swaggering, bold little beings armed to the teeth. She was not used to shugo who stared. Shugo who measured her as something else but a purse on feet. She was not used to a place that was theirs, where she was only a visitor, but they were the only non shugo here amongst a large number of shugo who didn't seem to want to act like shugo.

"Ah. General Aseph." The largest of the male shugo on the dock greeted easily enough, and Moriah was nonplussed. First, that he completely lacked the subservience that she was used to, treating the assassin like a compatriot, not a master. Secondly, that the shugo looked like he'd been through more than one serious engagement…he wore an eye patch, and there was a notable limp when he strode to meet Aseph. Thirdly…General? Aseph was a general?

"You received my message, Zerk?" Aseph asked, as if nothing about the shugo's manners bothered him.

"You want to go forward of Asteria, nyerk." And the shugo sounded completely less than thrilled with the very concept. "With airship and cargo, to relieve the lost units."

"Until we know where they are, we can't break the line to get them out. Zerk, it's important."

"Always important. Everything daevas do, is always important." Well, the reply was correct, but the near sarcasm wasn't.

"This really is important, Zerk. Would I be going if it wasn't?" Aseph had pulled himself up to his full height, and pointed at himself with a flourish. "Would they?" He pointed unerringly at Moriah, surrounded by the other three. "Balaur are bad for business. If we're all running and fighting, then who's buying?"

"Eh. If you're all running and fighting, then it's a war, and war is bad for the airship, nyerk. But." The shugo craned his head to stare up at Aseph. "Deal's a deal, daeva. And we have one. I take you as far as I can."


	6. Chapter 6

The airship was small, much more compact than the ones that plied Pandaemonium's main airship docks, and Moriah had to crouch to fit through the door that led to where she had been pointed to. Cabin? That sounded… less than promising. And proved to be exactly what she feared. No matter how she did the math, it still came up with sharing a cabin with at least one of the group. She could handle a cabin to herself, and likewise, handle one large open space as being no different than how she had been living over the past week and a half. But this guaranteed living hand in pocket with somebody, for an unstated period of time. Who? She cared little for her options. They were all good sorts, but none of them was willing to treat her like she'd become accustomed to. Ras treated her like family, like a sister or daughter or niece. There was never even the slightest undercurrent of anything else in his eyes, in his manners. Her teachers treated her like she was a student. A duty. A responsibility. Her classmates gave her a distant camaraderie. Certainly, there had been men that looked, and those had been shooed away by those who watched over Moriah. No one was going to be shooing anybody away here, now. She was on her own.

"Moriah."

Yes. On her own. With him. She turned her head to regard him, already knowing the answer. Two cabins, five people… "General?" And that. That was need to know information that had not been shared with her. She'd been horribly, terribly rude. That wasn't the sort of rude that caused Annlyn to blanch; this was the sort of rude that caused Ras to flinch.

"Don't call me that. It makes me a target. And you're a member of my squad; they always have the right to call me by my given name." His gaze was dark, but his expression was set. "You're in the bow cabin. With me."

Moriah pursed her lips. The bow cabin was the smaller, with two bunks, but was the finer one. The aft cabin was larger, three bunks, but would have her sharing with two males no matter what. Her personal choice would be to put Aseph and Soren with her in the larger, and Petric and Tebber in the smaller. Tebber's interest was somehow so much more awkward than Aseph's cool, level appreciation and Petric managed to drag her down when she had to deal with him. He was gloomy. Dark, and it was all she could manage to hold her hope and keep from giving into her fear and sadness. "You don't agree. With which part, calling me Aseph or staying in the front cabin with me?"

She'd called him Aseph for so long that General felt wrong and quite belated. "You're Aseph, I just didn't want to be rude. I did not know…"

"If it was important, then I assure you I would have made certain that you did know." He stepped around her, moved into the cabin and dropped his gear on the closest bunk. She obeyed when he motioned for her to move in after him and close the door behind her. "As for this…" He continued when the door was tightly closed behind her, "I gave it much thought."

"I'd prefer being in the larger room with you and Soren." He had always seemed to prize a straightforward response, so that was exactly what she would give him.

He gave her a faint, rodent smile, his lips locked over his teeth, only wrinkling his nose and the corners of his mouth. "And I can see where that would be comforting to all three of us. You wouldn't be alone with me; I'd have Soren to keep a leash on me. He is my right hand, and I trust him implicitly. Socially, however, not good." The faint smile turned sour, and she gazed at him warily. She'd heard enough to grasp that not only did he not aspire to rising socially, but that he held Pandaemonium society in contempt. "Like it or not, and I don't, Moriah… I am a general. You can socially survive the ripples of being tied to me in a less than platonic manner. Soren is not a general or any such niceties. Give the rumor mill the sort of grist that tying you to both of us at the same time…no. You're a good soul, I won't brand you as a whore for this trip, and these shugo can be bought. They'll wax poetic if there is enough kinah involved. Also, I'm the boss. I get the best room."

"You don't strike me as the sort that plays social games." If he was, she'd have probably heard of him, knew of his existence. Annlyn had worked hard to make certain that she understood who was who in the societal strata. She should know every single general…

"I'm not. Personally, I think the majority of so called daevas in Pandaemonium are sad jokes, concerned with ephemera while the rest of us get our claws bloody trying to keep the world going the best we can. Fashion." He snorted loudly. "Flower arranging. The only wars they contribute to are against each other in catty little social tantrums. But when it comes to you, I'll play it as long as I have to, for you. It's not the end of your social world to be rumored to be my lover…possibly just the opposite. I turned Annlyn down for that…"

He stretched out on his chosen bunk and was studying his feet. His claws were bare, and their wear was from travel and not a stylistic affection. "Good to get off of my feet and to furl my wings." He sighed, shading his eyes with a forearm. "You should as well."

Moriah sighed, dropping her gear at the foot of the empty bunk, and stretched out on it. It was barely long enough, her footclaws rested on the footboard, and the hair on the top of her head teased the headboard, but it was quiet and still…something about the vibration of the airship's engines cut right through the Abyss throb and banished it. A couple of moments later, Aseph began to snore, and she was lulled into sleep by the now all too familiar background noise.

They spent eight days on the airship, and they were eight of the finest days of Moriah's life. Certainly, the pall of why she was on this journey hung untouched in the back of her mind, but she adored the companionship. Was this what she'd been missing from Pandaemonium? Friends? Real friends, who would curse in front of her, laugh, and indulge in behaviors that would make Annlyn faint and the rest of Moriah's acquaintances cringe? It all felt so real. There were no rules, unspoken guidelines of behavior. If her nose itched, she scratched it against the rings of mail on her wrist. If the joke was funny, she laughed, even if it was off color and inappropriate. She felt comfortable, even in the cabin late at night. Aseph looked, and he made no excuses for it, but that was all he did. He taught her games of chance to pass the time, and only gave his wrinkly nosed smiles when she sampled the alcohol that the squad drank. They were taking care of her, definitely, but the cloying attention of Annlyn and the Convent were noticeably absent. There was no expectation to be pretty and perfect with the squad. No raised brows when her voice got loud and raucous. No steely stares when her table manners were not spot on perfect. Aseph thought nothing about passing her what he considered to be finger food, dangling from one of his claws, not a plate or utensil in sight other than the wicked claws she'd been born with. And Aseph…

How could she find that attractive? He was everything that Rasmus wasn't, and Rasmus was supposed to be the pinnacle of male Asmodian beauty. But she liked him. More than like, she caught the occasional stirrings of more… the way his expression cleared and lost its furtive rodent cast when his mind was far away. His voice could be quite lovely, charming when he picked up a chorus to a song that Soren had begun. The wrinkle in his nose when was amused and the stormy drop of his brows when he wasn't. Rasmus was bull strong, but Aseph tempered a wiry strength with perfect grace. And no matter how gauche she let herself become, he never looked at her in any form of disappointment. Even Rasmus was quick to address any failures she showed in comportment and manners, he was her guardian and had charged himself with the task of producing a beautiful young daeva fit for his world. She hadn't realized how much of a burden it had become until this trip.

She sighed, standing up and excusing herself. They stepped off tomorrow, and would fly again. Then she would be aching for rest, so she would try to get it now. The small cabin smelled of Aseph, worn leather and clean male, and she frowned. Not that it was present, but that it was so acceptable to her. Fool. She was a desperate fool. Aseph had turned down Annlyn. He stated it clearly, and she sensed no lie or exaggeration in that claim. If Annlyn wasn't good enough, then… Oh, it was all too much to consider. Safest to just curl up and get some sleep.

She woke at false dawn, aware of Aseph's presence. And he was very close by… She opened a cautious eye. He was sitting on the floor between the bunks, leaning against the wall, which gave her the rarity of being pretty much eye to eye with him. "Morning." He greeted without even flicking a glance in her direction.

"Good morning." She whispered back to him. She was a fool. An idiot. Mooning over… It was as if she'd spoken that aloud, because his eyes moved to her face and he scrutinized her for a long moment.

"This is going to get hard, Moriah. What's come before this is just a taste. You still have time to back out; this airship will make port in Pandaemonium…"

Before, that would have been unthinkable. It would mean abandoning Rasmus, and that she simply could not do. Now it brought coiled, sour biled distress into the pit of her stomach. Aseph was going in, with or without her. With or without a healer. It wasn't just Rasmus anymore. It was him. It was her squad. It was not going to happen.

"No. Aseph, no." She was still trying to come up with more of an argument, but he reached out and wound claws into her sleep knotted hair, cradling her face in his grasp. He kissed her, not a graceful, gentle, courtly touch of his lips, but a deep, hungry one.

He pulled back, obviously stunned by his own action, a dark flush rising from his leather guarded neck. "Uh…er…" He breathed, his eyes wide. "Moriah… I…"

"Hush." She chuckled, twining her own claws in his hair. Her first kiss was a chaste, sisterly one above his brow, the second on the tip of his nose, and the last a reply to his, full on his narrow lips. He grasped her by her elbows and rolled her out of her bunk, onto his chest, his grip wonderingly gentle… until he froze, his lips forming a silent curse. Forewarned, she heard a heavy, clawed step, and then another. Only Soren was that massive in stride and step…

And he had the usual disregard for manners, which he proved by throwing the door open without pause or knock. "Aseph, we're…"

Moriah stared up at him, frozen in place, straddling Aseph's chest, his expression hidden in the fall of her messy raven hair. The only half heartedly sane babble that her mind could come up with was the repeated mantra that she was dressed, that Aseph was dressed as well. If she could breathe, if her heart would start again, she could come up with a response, perhaps even an excuse.

Aseph parted her hair and squinted at Soren through the space. "What?" He asked, not bothering to bleed the irritation from the demand.

"Almost ready to go." Moriah could strangle the gladiator for the fact that every syllable in his response was a chuckle. This wasn't even remotely funny; she could feel herself flushing an impossible darkness…

"Thank you." Aseph growled in ponderous formality, and that damned gladiator actually did chuckle outright at that as he closed the door. "Well, I've been caught in more compromising positions…" he muttered, and she wasn't certain if it was to himself or a share with her. He might have been, but Moriah hadn't. His grasp tightened on her hips, regret deep on his features. "My apologies. I…"

No. Moriah felt more than a door closing, she felt him closing off. He was thinking too much in that split second, doubting his actions, castigating himself. She gazed down at him for a long moment before she nodded, leaned forward and captured his lips again. If possible, he seemed even more stunned than at the beginning.

"Moriah." He breathed, resting his forehead against her collarbone. "Lovely, lovely Moriah. Get your things ready, we go after your guardian now."

She stood, picking up her staff and shouldering the Cube. "Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

It was all that Aseph could do to keep a straight face when he stepped onto the airship's deck. Damn Soren. Nine straight days of without even the hint of a knock and the moment something happened, he had to choose then to walk in.

He gazed over the rail, into nothingness. He'd never been this far from anything before in his life. He was almost as close to Elysia as he was to Asmodae… This was a fool's errand. If he had a half a whit of sense, he'd call this over and done…take Moriah home to Pandaemonium. Hell, take them all home to Asmodae, no use in throwing good away after bad.

"Aseph? You have that look." Soren's expression completely lacked the amusement he was expecting from the man. He looked as steady and calm as always. Not even a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "You're not rethinking this, are you?"

"I've never been this far before." He didn't expect the melancholy in his voice, and Soren snorted in disagreement.

"You've been to Elysia, Aseph."

True enough. But that had been so different than this. It had been Asmodae on one side of a portal, and Elysia on the other side. "Through a portal. Or a rift. This is different."

"True. You want my advice?"

Aseph gripped the rail and sighed. Probably not, but he'd get it anyway. "Go ahead." He breathed, and it was almost as if he could smell Balaur in the charged air of the Abyss.

"You do this every mission. Get us almost there, and then start rethinking it. And now…" Soren glanced over his shoulder in Moriah's direction, "You think you have more of a reason to. We are daeva. We are Aion's chosen. We are out here, picking fights with what we were chosen for… the Balaur. We go into this to rescue our own, Aseph. There is no greater charge than that. I believe we're the only ones who can do it, Aseph. And I believe we can. We are real daeva."

"You just want a song written about you."

Soren grinned from ear to ear and clapped him harshly on the shoulder. "Aseph, all you should be dwelling on right now is the singular joy of your morning, which I most unfortunately disturbed. What I saw looked good, my friend."

Aseph felt himself blush and his grip tightened. He was still off balance from that, where his mind had wandered off to, he had no idea. It had been his fool motion to touch her, to make that first move. He'd just expected less of a positive response from her. If she'd given him a good stinging slap, outrage, even claws, then he could tell himself it was a lost cause. She was beyond him. "I expected a different response." He admitted slowly, and Soren laughed outright.

"I told you. If you went there, to not be surprised if she was amenable to the idea."

"Why?" That was the question, and for the life of him, he didn't have an answer. He knew what he looked like. He knew what he was. Certainly, his elevation to General had changed things, it had been the reason why shiny, vacant souls like Annlyn had tried to add him to their lists, but Moriah was not that sort. "She's…"

"Not as polished as you'd like to think, Aseph. Guardian. Ward. Where are her real parents? She's been well raised, certainly, but there's a whole lot of something else going on there. I'm going to say something truly terrible here, and you can take it however you please." Aseph frowned, but did not look over. "She may just like you, Aseph. It could be just that simple."

"Life is never that simple, Soren." He sighed, hopping onto the ship's railings and steeling his soul. Time to get things done. He unfurled his wings, hearing the eerie, whispering sound of the others shadowing the motion. He nodded to himself and dropped off of the railing, freefalling until he snapped his massive wings out and began a dive.

It was both a blessing and a terrible curse when he began to grow tired. He didn't want to stop. He felt lost. Cold. So wrong, if he could just keep going, he could outfly whatever it was…

"Aseph." Moriah's voice was steel, unyielding, and he glanced warily at her. She could easily keep pace with him, her wingspan huge. "You need to find a place to stop."

"Can't stop." He looked between her and the three trailing his progress. "Moriah…"

"Aseph!" She had never used that tone of blatant command with him before. "You will find a place to stop. Soren, Petric, they're getting tired. It's getting late."

"Yes, my lady." He snapped back, and she glared at him. "There. That looks big enough." A likely looking chunk had appeared, mostly level, and he dove towards it, leaving her behind. Somehow, she annoyed him. How could he have thought she was so fine just hours earlier, and now, she seemed like such a nag? And really, nag? She'd asked him to stop. Given him a good reason. Only gotten snippy when he had not listened…

Ground under his claws should have felt good. Safe. But it didn't. Suddenly all he wanted to do was go home and forget about all of this… "What's wrong with me, Moriah?" He asked when she warily approached him.

"Where are you tied to? Your home obelisk?"

"Brusthonin… Baltasar Hill." It was an unlikely and occasionally inconvenient location to return to, but he'd never trusted Primum's safety. He avoided Pandaemonium, and its great and powerful obelisk. Morheim was just beneath the rings to Primum, if Primum fell to the Elyos, they controlled the rings. He was paranoid and proud of it…

"You're getting far from it." She replied mildly. "It might be time for a kisk for us."

"You're the cleric." He breathed thankfully. Was it that easily explained? He'd been jumpy and a little out of sorts since they'd started the airship ride, it had been why he was sitting so close to her. He had thought that the comfort her presence gave was strictly companionable, but she was the cleric, tied to this understanding.

"Why Brusthonin, if you don't mind me asking? It seems a little off the beaten path…" She picked up her Cube and opened it, peering in.

"Exactly. I've seen Primum overwhelmed by the Elyos before. Thankfully, they did not attack the obelisk there, but they have before. The Balaur destroy obelisks as a matter of tactics. I don't want my soul locked to an obelisk in the Abyss unless there's just no other choice…" No other choice, like the small kisk she brought out of the Cube and set on the ground before her. Most everything in him screamed a negative, as usual, but there was a foreign part that rejoiced upon seeing it. He said nothing when she held it out to him, but it was immensely comforting when he wrapped claws around it and rested his forehead against the cool surface. Home. He linked to it, and felt immediately better, his usual impertinent self. It would not last forever, but just the temporary relief was enough. "Where are you linked to?" He asked, feeling the cloud of gloom lift. It was replaced by the unease that being linked to a kisk always left with him, too small, too mobile, too easily destroyed…

"The obelisk at the Convent."

"Ah." That made sense. "Can I ask?"

"Ask what?" She pulled out her bedroll from the Cube, and rolled it out on the middle of the chunk, leaving the kisk in open view. Soren just stared at it with the same lack of joy that Aseph would have normally given one; he must be linked at Primum. Tebber waved it away, and Petric fully ignored it. So that made all three of them linked at Primum, and Moriah linked to one of the great obelisks of Pandaemonium.

"Convent? You?" Now that he knew her better, it seemed like a shame. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she seemed too real and grounded for such a contemplative life.

"Balder offered me the position there." She bowed her head, collecting the precious kisk and replacing it carefully in her Cube. "It was an amazing honor, especially at my age. He told me that they would mold me into a great and fine healer, a cleric to be proud of. There was never the idea that it was supposed to be permanent, Aseph. It was always obvious that I was expected to leave in due time. Rasmus was so proud of me… It seemed like a perfect thing at the time, and I don't regret it. I learned so much there, and it was sad to leave it. Is it the life for me…?" She gazed at him pensively, wrinkling her brow in thought. "No. It's not."

Somehow, that was one of the best things he'd ever heard in his admittedly rather short life.

Tebber was the first to see them coming, his warning call a harsh belling yell. Aseph picked them up a moment later, then Petric. Moriah finally caught a glimpse of them, and her heart froze. A faint hope that it could be a group of Elyos faded before it was truly born…those were Balaur, great, dark, hulking shapes swallowed in the shadow. But they were growing quickly larger, more prominent on the horizon, coming right for them. Aseph dived for the largest piece of debris in the area, and vanished the moment his claws hit it. Soren followed him in, standing large and defiant upon it. Tebber and Petric hit the edge, moving to flank Soren. Moriah hit the edge, digging her claws into stone to hold her balance, her back claws hanging in thin air.

Soren would front the assault, and she focused her attention on him. Without him, it would all be over…

Moriah knew everything about the Balaur that her teachers could instill in her. History. Tactics. Descriptions. But nothing quite encompassed what hit the opposite edge of the rock hard enough to bounce Moriah five feet into the air. It was massive, dwarfing Soren, black scaled, with a stark, almost handsome face. It had claws to make any Asmodian proud, spiked draconic wings and a whiplike tail.

The gladiator didn't wait for it to settle itself, but attacked immediately. It was all that Moriah could do to keep him up through the initial flurry of attacks, and then, Aseph struck from its side. Two to heal, and it seemed like a suddenly impossible task…and they had only one of these things committed to the fight. There were two more still in the air, but they seemed smaller, not much larger than she and Soren were, and more than content to spectate.

It jumped again, and again, Moriah was jolted into the air, choosing to stay there this time rather than accept the distraction. Bad. Bad. It was bad, especially since it had decided to focus on Aseph while ignoring Soren.

Aseph was a glory in motion, the blur of his ember eyes bright, as he dodged, wove, and attacked. That ended in a split second, when the monster timed a perfect backhand and struck him across the chest. He flew across the rock in Moriah's direction and landed bonelessly at her feet. He slumped close to the edge of the rock, a crumpled, unmoving heap of black hair and worn black armor.

She had barely a moment to grasp that he was still alive, but deeply unconscious, before she had to turn her attention back to keeping Soren alive. If he faltered, it was all over. The air sang with Tebber's arrows, and Petric's wind spirit formed to bound into the attack.

The balaur laughed, and somehow that was deeply wrong. She knew they were intelligent, of course, but to be mocked like this… to have something exult in their weakness, was a deep offense. Its gaze locked with her, then down at Aseph at her feet, and it smiled, taking to the air. Her first horrible thought was that it was going to come straight for her. If she was attacked, her only option would be to fall back, away from the fight…

No, it did worse… dropping its full weight from several feet in the air, back on the edge of the rock. The rock tilted suddenly, spilling Soren into the Abyss, Tebber and Petric sliding behind him. The target was all too obvious when a boneless Aseph started to slide towards the edge. The balaur snorted in amusement, taking to the air to reacquire Soren as a target. Aseph showed no signs of regaining consciousness whatsoever, and the brilliant crimson smear that marked his slide proved that he probably wouldn't without her aid. But she couldn't help him and keep Soren up. But if she didn't, he was going to slide right off the edge…into the Abyss…badly injured and completely unaware. She couldn't even grab him to stop his slide… she needed her hands to keep casting.

"Damn it." She hissed, spreading her wings and running down the incline to him. She stepped on his back, catching her claws in his armor and sinking the claws of her other foot into the tilted stone face. Aseph was heavier than he looked, and threatened to keep on sliding.

"Do what must be done."

She caught her breath, closed her mind to what she was about to do, and sank four inches of knife edged claws through his armor, through his skin, until she got firm purchase on bone and locked him in place. He was going nowhere. Nowhere at all. He wasn't going to fall…and fall…and fall…and fall…out of range of the kisk on her back.

The balaur laughed harder, deeper, louder, and she wished hate and rage was enough to hurt it as badly as she had just hurt Aseph.

"Elyos!" Tebber yelled, and Moriah ground her teeth in impotent rage. More trouble, at the worst possible time. There was nothing to do; her job was still clear…keep Soren alive. And that took every fiber of her fortitude to manage.

The sky filled with bright, white wings, and the din of combat. For right then, it seemed as if the agreement was that the huge Balaur was the problem that needed to be dealt with first, and the reinforcements were enough to turn the tide. It tried to flee, suddenly outgunned, but fell at the edge, its weight tilting it further down. Moriah finally cried out in distress, attracting the attention of the closest daeva to her…unfortunately not one of the squad. An Elyos, he had shadowed her position, another cleric. He grabbed Aseph by the same straps she had originally tried to hold him with, but he had no claws to make any sort of purchase whatsoever although he managed a fairly decent brake by belling out his wings and planting his rump on the rock.

"Moriah. By Asphel's shadow…" Soren's voice was gravelly worn, but his grip on her shoulder was welcome iron. "Don't let go of him."

"I'm hurting him!" It was the cry of a small child, and Moriah hated it. She hated the level and commiserating stare of the Elyos cleric. She hated the sudden flush of attention from the entire group, she just wanted Rasmus. Or Aseph, up, awake and aware. Either would do.

The sky was eclipsed by a great mass, and Moriah gazed upwards. Another damned Elyos, as big as a mountain. It could only be a templar, like Rasmus, armed with a giant blade, but Soren seemed to accept his presence with a wary equanimity. "General Aseph." The man wondered slowly, "In a bit of a pinch, literally." He spoke Asmodian to her, stilted and cautiously. "I'll tell you when to let go, girl."

Let go? He was insane… "Do it, Moriah." Soren murmured, and she stared skittishly at him. "Alioth will not harm him."

Aseph's armor creaked audibly when the massive Elyos slid blunted fingers into the harness and the drag of Aseph's weight suddenly stopped pulling her down. She overbalanced gracelessly, falling on her rump, every thought focused on pulling her claws out as cleanly as possible. She could catch herself later.

Soren was the one who actually caught her, and held her until she got her senses about her well enough to unfurl her wings and right herself. "I need him on a flat place." She snapped, and Tebber nodded quickly, hopping off of the rock and heading to find another. There had to be one. There just had to be one…

Tebber was back in an instant. "Bring him this way." He beckoned, and Soren and the Elyos templar…Alioth… muscled Aseph into the air, Moriah healing before they had a good grip on him. 'This way' proved to have a large, flat and upright block of stone easily as large as a ballroom.

"Keep him going, Moriah." Soren breathed, giving Aseph a ghost of a touch. "We'll get one of the tents up for you…as soon as we can. Thank you for your help, Alioth…"

Moriah risked a glance up. The Elyos stood, his blue eyes on her. There was no hatred, no anger in them, just a sad hopefulness. It was odd to see such an obvious warrior without the claws that were an Asmodian's pride. He was pale, with bright red hair which ended abruptly before his neck began. He lacked that endearing little tuft of hair that marked the beginning of a mane… In fact, he lacked the mane completely.

"Come on, Aseph." She coaxed, but she could feel he was still far away from her. He had stabilized somewhat, but blood still seeped from his back, and from his nose. She chanted under her breath, cast more heals, pushing back dizzy nausea. She was exhausted, and the adrenaline was fading. She felt cold, shaky, and the same sentence kept running circles in her head. She had hurt Aseph. And a slight nagging realization…she had hurt herself.

Reality started to fold back into itself again. She had done what she had to, just the same as if she had cut an arrow from him, or a poison, a rot, or a cancer. He wasn't falling into the nothingness. He would survive this. In spite of the rising, burning throb, she would survive this. "Tent's up, Moriah. Let's get him under cover." Soren still hadn't stopped since the fight; she knew it was foolish to even suggest it. He'd stop when Aseph was seen to, and no sooner.

Again, Soren and Alioth took Aseph's weight, holding the much smaller assassin between the two of them to keep him face down and prone. Moriah limped after them, feeling Soren's sudden attention. "What happened to you?" He demanded as they reached the tent, a pallet already set up inside of it for Aseph. The pair went to removing Aseph's cuirass, carefully. While she just wanted to cut through it the same as she had the back of it, she knew better. They were out in the Abyss. Far from support. He might be carrying an off set in his Cube, and he might not. Best to take care of what he had, just in case.

"I split claws." She responded tersely, and the Elyos giant gave her another commiserating stare.

"Ow." Soren hissed, and finally managed the last buckle to peel leather from Aseph. He was wearing a slip of a shirt beneath it, but she'd destroyed that, shredding four gashes into it. Moriah felt nothing at all wrong in ripping it completely off, and she cringed when she did. There were four deep gouges in Aseph's back, bruising purple and still oozing dark blood.

Why, oh, why did I get those bloody knives? She mourned, deliberately avoiding Soren's intent stare. "Moriah." The man finally stated. "Stop it."

"I…." Did what had to be done. I did what had to be done.

"Thank the shadows you were knived." Soren noted slowly, and she raised confused eyes to his face. "Aseph's gear may not look it, but it's one of the best sets in Asmodae. You aren't the first one to come at him with a set of claws. You aren't the first one to come at him with a set of knived claws. You are the first one to make it through that armor."

"Eh." She rested her palms on Aseph's back, measuring. Not as much damage as she'd feared, he had been unconscious, he had not struggled. The holes were clean, deep. The reach of where she had hooked him at had been perfect; the curve of her claws had slid into the space of his ribs and had caught, going no deeper. "What the…?"

His back was crisscrossed with scars. Thin, straight, pale ridges of knotted scars. One after another, leaving naked paths in his thick mane, from his neck to the small of his back. It was an atrocity, made all the more obvious from the fact that Aseph had been blessed with a mass of mane… his neck tuft was deep and thick, and it spread across his shoulders in a heavy down.

"You tell me." Soren growled in the dimness of the tent. "He doesn't talk."

"Whipped." That was all too obvious. And since it was almost unthinkable that a general of the Asmodian army was superbly lucky or cowardly enough to have never died in his blessed existence, "Before he ascended." This was how his body knew it was, they always returned to what they had been at the moment of their ascension. Moriah would always bear the fishhook shaped scar of a boar porgus's tusk in her thigh, even after she died for the first time. "But he'll be fine." That she was certain of. "I caught him perfectly."

Now, it was time to see how much of a mess she'd made out of herself. She sat next to Soren, in the light at the flap of the tent, and studied her feet. She'd grabbed Aseph with her right foot, and it was fine. She'd sank into rock with her left, and it was not fine. The metallic blades had split; bent outwards, destroyed, and the claw beneath had also split, past the quick.

Soren sighed, sat in front of her. He pulled a packet from his Cube and laid it out, tools to remove the blades and nips, screws and epoxy to repair the damage. Moriah couldn't heal this, only time would cause the claw to grow back. "So…" Moriah began, inclining her chin towards the flame headed giant trudging his way back to his pale compatriots. "Elyos?"

"We tend to end up in the same area as Alioth's command. We have an agreement that we'd all rather fight Balaur than each other. If we run out of Balaur, then they're next, but I don't see us running out of Balaur any time soon. That one and Aseph have a good thing going. Don't upset the cook pot, Moriah."

"I won't." This all fell back into doing what had to be done. If it helped her to find Rasmus and get the hell away from here, then it was all good.

Aseph came to slowly, with the reluctance that only came after a harsh beating. He was resting on his belly, tightly swaddled to minimize his movements. His back burned and stung, and the air was sharp with the smell of medicinal herbs. No, no…not again. That had been a long time ago, hadn't it? He was a daeva, blessed by Aion. A General. Not a whipped dog. Or was that all just a silly dream? There was a woman with him, her voice as gentle as tiny bells…

"Wayla?" He murmured. No, he had gotten caught. The lord had finally gotten a hold of him and had exacted payment for all of those things that Aseph had stolen.

"No, Aseph. It's Moriah."

Moriah? A lovely young daeva, his cleric. Following him to the depths of the Abyss… No dream, but a reality and then the recollection of the great Balaur's forearm crashing into his chest. "Moriah." He repeated her name wryly, his forehead buried in a rough pillow. "Is there a reason I'm tied down like this?"

"You kept trying to roll over onto your back and disturbing the bandages." He felt her claws on his back, gentle, and he glared at the unoffending pillow in front of him. He preferred his clothes on for two reasons, and if he was as bare as her touch and the chill kiss of air on his skin proved, then she'd seen them both.

"I took the hit on the front." He growled, and she grew heavily silent. "What, Moriah?" He demanded, looking through the strands of his loose hair at her. "Did I hit rocks?" Rocks that had bitten through the finest leather armor in Asmodae? He doubted it. The Balaur must have gotten another hold of him after he went unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Aseph. I didn't have a choice. It wasn't rocks, I clawed you." She clasped her hands in front of her, her chin bowed. "The Balaur had tilted the rock we were on, you were sliding. You were unconscious. I couldn't grab you, Soren was holding the Balaur off and I had to heal him. I stepped on you to stop you from sliding, then…"

She had hooked him. He'd seen it happen before, and with the masterwork blades she'd been carrying on her claws, his armor had given way. "I'll live, Moriah." He sighed, resting his forehead on his forearms. She had seen it all, mass amounts of hairy Aseph and the thin trails of scars. And yes, he would live in spite of it. "We're comfortable enough for a tent?" If they had done this for no other reason than to give him a better place to recoup, then blood would fly.

"We have company." There was a distance in her voice, an uncertainty, and he rested his head to where he could watch her. "A man named Alioth and his command? They broke the Balaur's assault."

That was something he would have preferred to not deal with. What made pragmatic sense out in the depths of the Abyss often didn't make sense to brand shiny new Asmodian daevas filled with outrage and stories. "Alioth is a good man." He breathed. If the man had been born with claws and a mane, Aseph would have been proud to call him a comrade, to stand against the Balaur with him openly. Of course, Aseph knew all too well that Alioth mourned the fact that Aseph had been born with claws and a mane, and said just the opposite truth.

But that was something he would have preferred that Moriah not know. One word to Rasmus, one word to Annlyn, and he, Aseph, would be answering uncomfortable questions that could haunt him for centuries. She now firmly knew too much for his tastes. "Moriah…"

"I'm not a fool." She had turned her back on him, a back gloriously decorated with a raven fall of mane and a cascade of tail, dark as a young child's, yet as full as the adult she definitely was. "The man saved my life, Aseph. Yours. Soren's. Tebber's. Petric's. And if we find our people, all of theirs as well. I know when to keep my mouth shut…you don't want people in Pandaemonium to call me a whore, and I don't want them to call you a traitor."

He extricated himself from the swaddling and managed to sit up in the pallet. There was really nothing to say to that, she had it well, she grasped it fully. He just wished that this trip was more straightforward than it had seemed at the beginning. She had to grow up, but did it have to happen so quickly? But Soren was correct; there was a core to her that wasn't quite as spotless as she seemed on the outside. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

She gazed at him warily, her fingers gracefully rerolling a wayward bandage. "You call Rasmus a guardian. Where are your real parents? Where are you from?"

"I'll answer that if you answer a question of mine."

Life was never easy. He shrugged and spread his hands. "What question? I've told you mine…"

"What happened to your back?"

Yes, that was the question he was afraid was coming. And she was right, if he was asking personal questions, she had the right to ask them right back. He smiled wryly, gave her another half shrug. "I was a thief. I was only caught once; by our area's daeva lord…he realized I had stolen from one of his guests. I was made an example of, Moriah. He meant to kill me, but Aion had other plans for me. That's one of the reasons I avoid Pandaemonium. He's there. And I'm not in the mood to forgive or forget."

She nodded, as if that was what she was expecting. "My parents were simple farmers from the area near Alsig. They died when I was very young, leaving me in the care of my older brother, Regh. He decided that the reason we were so badly off was because of the daeva, that they were to blame. Perhaps they were, I don't know, but I do know that Regh turned hateful. Bitter. Twisted. And he began to plot against the daeva, he joined a Lepharist cell hidden in the hills. That was where I grew up, and that was how I was raised. Until the day my brother brought Rasmus home as a trophy…"

Aseph grimaced. That obviously had not gone as planned. He understood, on some level, exactly what the Lepharists wanted. If he had not ascended, he would have probably chosen that path himself. He understood exactly why the common people could hate daevas. He had. On some level, he still did. "I was eleven. " She continued. "I did as the voice in my heart bade, I released Rasmus. He took me away from there, to Pandaemonium, and started to raise me as his ward."

Eleven. Old enough to remember what had come before, yet young enough to have been gilded by the high society world that her guardians moved in. She'd been kept for years in Rasmus's household before she had ascended; she was not one of those unfortunates who ascended as children. Like his, her ascension had come early, but not so early to be a curse. He had been just nineteen, chased by a daeva lord out for more of his blood than the man had already spilled, when he'd been cornered against a cliff.

"Jump or face me, wretch."

And the voice in his soul had told him to jump. And jump he had, his fall broken by the sudden sprout of a pair of great wings. He'd never looked back, never gone back. There was nothing there for him.


	8. Chapter 8

She rested a warm and gentle hand on his shoulder, the razor edge of her claws delicate against his collarbone. He turned to her, burying his face in the thick wool robes that covered her armor, a plea for something he couldn't put words to. He was tired of being alone, with no one to turn to. Even Soren came at a distance, a compatriot in arms, a friend, but never truly a source of comfort from the darkness. And comfort she gave, silently winding fingers in his hair and belling wings protectively over his head. Her mane was silk in his grasp, thick and dense between his fingers.

"You think me a fool." He muttered, embarrassed.

"No." She disagreed easily enough. "I think it's been a rough day. I'll let you go, if that's what you want."

"Not yet." He sighed, closing his eyes and drifting. "I do have to go out there, though." If Alioth was here, then he had a new source of intelligence, more information, a better chance of finding what he was looking for. And once he did that, he could get out of here. Get her out of here. This was a hero's errand, and he was in no mood to be a hero. But they were all the chance that those units had, and he was still a daeva. An Asmodian. A General. He wouldn't quail, no matter how dark it got.

"Drink this, and I'll let you go." There was an undercurrent of threatening promise beneath her words, and he sighed. She was a big girl, with a lot of weight and blessings to put behind that sentiment. She could, especially as bad off as he was, put forth a really good effort to hold onto him.

The draft she gave him was warm, both from her body temperature and from the spices in it, and he felt better almost immediately. The moment he had the last drop down, she furled her wings and they vanished in a puff of feathers. "So what do you think of Alioth?" He asked when she stepped away to give him room to stand.

"Shame. He'd be a lovely Asmodian." She shrugged, beginning to repack her Cube with the supplies she'd been using on him. "I know he's not, but he seems soft. Neutered. Declawed. He lacks..."

Aseph only nodded. He understood what she was trying to express, he'd felt it his fair share of times. He'd seen lovely Elyos women, brilliantly haired beauties, but so many of the features he would use to innately judge their attractiveness, were missing. And he'd never even really understood how important those features were until then. So many tiny things that made a gulf between the races. He could overlook the fact that Moriah's backmane was still dark as night, as long as she had one... as long as he could bury his face in that certain place where her neck met her back, where it grew dense and long and held a woman's smell. And the fall of tail to sway with a walk, the brutal promise of claws, those were what held his attention... he'd take the least attractive female of his own kind over the most attractive Elyos any day. "They seem to be such small lacks, until you actually see them." He stated, and she nodded in relief.

His gear was bundled on the ground and he picked it up, surveying the damage. He hated the smell of his own blood, and he'd always been able to distinguish it from others', and the leather was saturated with that stench, along with all of the other reeks of real armor. He glanced up, feeling her stance change, and sighed. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, her eyes dark. "It's not as bad as I'd feared." He admitted, and it was the truth. She hadn't done any scrabbling to gain purchase, each of the holes was small, tight, perfect, no tearing. "Moriah, thank you."

She gave him a perfectly dubious look, wrinkling her freckled nose in response.

"I'm alive. Had I fallen, unconscious, into the Abyss, I wouldn't be." No, he would have fallen out of range of the kisk she carried, he would have died, and that would have been the end of that. He had no illusions about just how 'immortal' he truly was. "And, because you haven't said anything, I must assume you kept the others up..."

If she had indeed, then she was one of the finest clerics he'd ever run across. He had felt the amount of raw power she'd been channeling into Soren's healings, by all rights, Soren should have fallen in the first couple of seconds in that fight. The fact that she was still here, that he was still here, and that he didn't sense that she was hiding things from him all upheld that.

"The Elyos arrived quickly." She stated. He stared at her for a long, level moment until she twisted her lips. "We're all still here, Aseph. No one's in Primum."

"Then I thank you. And..." He studied the holes, running his own claws through them, "This can be repaired...where's my shirt?"

"It wasn't as lucky." She held up a tattered mess of bloodied linen, and he nodded. The armor was heavily enchanted, the best available. The shirt...had been just a shirt. He had others in his cube. He dug out another, motioning at her to toss the one in her hands onto the small brazier heating the tent. He'd heard rumors that the Balaur could recognize and track scents...and if he could recognize his own blood's smell, he wouldn't put it past them to be able to do the same. The less they had on him, the better.

Dressed again, he stepped out into the open, instinctively counting heads. All of his people were accounted for, and most of Alioth's. "General Alioth." He greeted, and the Elyos nodded one back at him.

"General Aseph."

"I seem to be spending my..." he glanced up into the well of darkness, "...evening thanking people for my life."

"It was close for you this time, Aseph." The great redheaded man noted slowly, and Aseph shrugged. Alioth was not a man who minced words, who threw up pleasantries to soften the truth.

"I know." Aseph sat next to him, studying his feet claws morosely. "I am blessed to have some of the finest daeva that Aion has blessed at my side, at my back."

"I see you have a new hire."

"Moriah, yes. A lucky find."

"From what I saw coming in, yes. She gave us enough time to get here... speaking of, Aseph, why are you here?"

Aseph bit his lip, to give up the positions of several beleaguered Asmodian units to an Elyos General went beyond simply ignoring that General's operations, and occasionally providing aid versus the Balaur. It was treason, pure and simple. "We've lost contact with our forward Asteria units." He muttered bitterly, his stare locked on Moriah as she moved out of the tent to sit with Soren. "We think they've been overwhelmed by this Balaur push, forced deeper into the Abyss. No one will be able to make it to them as quickly as I can... no one can find them like I can, if they're still there to be found."

Aseph understood the flicker of emotions across Alioth's features, deep in his eyes. Likewise, for him to give over information to Aseph was just as deeply treasonous "I've heard...rumors... of Asmodian units pushed into Kadarin. I have no solid information, my friend. But...with time running out, that's where I'd go if I were looking for them."

"That's damned near in Elysia."

"The Balaur are pushing hard. If you do this, Aseph, I won't be able to help you. In fact, I will loudly deny that I even know you... I have family. A wife, a daughter..."

"I'm not asking, Alioth, and I'd turn it down if you offered."

"My friend, if you'd only been born in Elysia..."

Aseph snorted, but this time he finally had a worthy answer to that one. "Alioth, if I'd been born in Elysia, I wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting that one to look upon me well." He jerked his chin towards Moriah. "And that would be a shame, indeed."

The man guffawed, "I was wondering that, but I've discovered I'm not that adept at judging your women. She seems pretty enough, I guess. Gifted cleric, no doubt. But I can never quite get used to all that hair. The claws."

"She's quite lovely." Was as far as Aseph was willing to go with that. "Thank you for the save, and the information, Alioth. I will repay you."

"I think we're even...again."

Aseph shrugged, that was quite possible, but he'd honestly stopped keeping score quite a long time ago. "Soren! Let's move out." They were running out of time if this was true. And the truth of this was the only hope they still had. If this was wrong, then it was over.

For the first time since they'd left Primum, Moriah sensed that Tebber was uncertain. He'd been nothing but an unwavering compass, but no longer. He stood on the edge of a floating chunk and stared out into the emptiness of the Abyss. "Kadarin?" He repeated the word that Aseph had dropped, as if he hoped, no expected, laughter and for it be called back as a joke. "That's in the sunlight, Aseph. I...don't exactly know where it is."

"Then we'll just have to find it."

"Ah..."

It was also the first time that Moriah sensed doubt in Aseph's leadership. They'd been willing to follow him this far, but it seemed like this might just be their limit. Did it actually stop here?

Ras. Was still out there. She had to believe that. She had to keep going...

"Aseph, I told you I'd follow you to the ends of the world." Soren stated, his tone steely. "It looks like you've finally decided to call me on it. If you say we go to Kadarin, then we go. Moriah?"

"I go on." Going back wasn't an option.

"Petric?"

That one's silence was more doubt. Moriah glanced at Aseph, but he had his back to them, faced deep into the Abyss. He nodded, as if he'd been spoken to, and stepped off of the edge. Moriah jumped into a run, building up speed, shadowed by Soren. She fought the urge to look back, to wonder. If they came, then they came. If they didn't, then the best of luck to them to find their way back.

By an hour later, it became obvious that it was just the three of them pressing forward. "Aseph." Soren asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"We can pick up the pace if you like. Moriah can keep up with us."

He didn't so much as glance back, but his speed picked up, and Moriah was surprised. He was the shortest, he had a less expansive wingspan, but he made up for it in speed and grace. "We'll make the transition to sunlight in a couple of hours." Aseph noted gloomily, and Moriah blinked. Never in her life, had she actually been in sunlight She was born of shadows, raised in Atreia's twilight. "It's going to be very bright, Moriah. We'll stop on the verge to acclimate, and I have glasses." He sounded resigned, sad, and her heart wanted to break. She had thought she understood that this would be difficult. But the truth was worse. She was tired. Filthy. Scared. And, on the edge of her perceptions, she knew she was at the limit of her own obelisk. It set up a constant fret, a never-ending worry in her soul. "We need to stop when we can." She stated, and got Aseph's first actual glance since they'd been abandoned by the other two. "I'm at the edge of my obelisk. I need to kisk."

Soren muttered a profanity, and she knew he wasn't far behind her. His was closer, actually located in the Abyss, but hers had been the more powerful.

"Understood." Aseph stated, and a few minutes later, found a rock big enough to support the three of them. "Suggestions, Soren?"

"We follow their path in. If there are our units at Kadarin, they had to have gotten there by flying. We know where they started at. We can intercept their path, and follow them. I don't like the idea of blindly flying, into sunlight, and into Elysia."

Moriah nodded when both pairs of eyes landed on her questioningly. It made as much sense, or more, than any idea she might be able to come up with. And now was not the time to question, or to pause. They had reached the end of that. "Agreed."

She pulled the kisk from her Cube, feeling its warmth through her palms. It already carried Aseph's link, she could feel him within it. And now, it would carry hers as well... she rested her forehead against its warmth. Soren moved closer, looming over her, and held his hands out when she was done. "All of us." He breathed, accepting it from her and linking to it. "Let's go get this over with."

It was simply the most amazing thing that Moriah had ever seen, dawn breaking on the verge, the edge between Asmodae and Elysia. The light moved like a shadow, a tide, only bright instead of dark. "It's beautiful." She murmured, stunned. She knew, of course, that Elysia basked in sunlight, and Asmodae shaded in twilight. She'd seen plenty of illustrations in the tomes of the Temple, the works in the Convent, to intellectually grasp the mechanics of how and why.

"Imagine the world as a room." Master Harben had chuckled. "Light spills from a window onto the floor below it. Elysia is that floor, and Asmodae, the shadowed rafters of the ceiling above."

Soren stood beside her, silent. "It is." He finally agreed. "I've never been to Elysia during the daylight."

Of course not, even if he had done rifting raids there, those would be scheduled for darkness, to expand upon their ability to see in uncertain light, and to keep them from being blinded. Darkness was their home, their comfort, and their armor.

"It will get blinding quickly enough." Aseph muttered, butting her with a quick elbow. He was holding up a pair of glasses to her, their lenses smoky and dark. "Come on. The novelty will wear off soon enough, I promise."

The day was beyond brilliant. It was glaringly, blindingly bright, even through the smoked glasses that Moriah wore. It was hot, she could feel the sun beating down even through the voluminous cloak and hood she had pulled down as far as it would go. They didn't have the luxury to move at night, when they'd all be more comfortable. It had been a month since they'd left Primum. They'd more than run out of time, this had already become a lost cause and a fool's errand. Even the raw joy of seeing the sun for the first time in her life had dimmed, even if the light refused to. She was so far away, and no amount of telling herself what a great adventure this was would even begin to raise the growing unease in her heart. Without Tebber and Petric, no one spoke more than terse, necessary, locked sentences. Aseph had barely said two sentences to her, and none of them shared the insight, the rapport, she had felt growing between them in the Abyss.

I want to go home.

She had lost it all. The hope to find Ras. The determination of a daeva. Even the tiniest sprout of a newborn relationship that she hadn't even realized was growing until it died. This was all just a grinding, mocking duty that would end in sorrow...

Aseph moved like a gust of wind, barreling Soren to his knees, and tucking Moriah into his grasp as he rolled into a ball across the ground and behind a small rise. The first arrow passed through where Soren's center mass had been, the second hit the rocks at about the same place behind where Moriah had been.

"Ranger." Aseph muttered into her shoulder.

"Elyos?"

"Didn't see. I was...not paying enough attention."

"You're forgiven. Now go find out." She longed to hold him for a second longer, but let him go. There was no time. He vanished in a blur, and was gone, leaving her alone trying to hide behind a desperately small outcropping. If she was dainty, if she were Annlyn's size, it would be enough. He was gone for just a moment, and an eternity, before his shadow appeared again. He stood to his full height, in the open, extending a hand down to her. Soren was warily clambering to his own feet, and she wished she could see either one of their expressions.

"Moriah." Aseph breathed, awed and jubilant. "We've found them."

Yes, but them didn't necessarily mean him.

"Rasmus. Wake up."

No, the last thing that Ras wanted to do was wake up. He'd just gotten to sleep, and it had been a long time in coming. "Why?" He hissed, covering his eyes with his forearm. No wonder the Elyos were so evil, they grew up in this hellhole...

"Moriah is here."

And that was not even remotely funny. Moriah was safe, right where he'd left her, in Pandaemonium. In the Convent. "Why would you say such a thing?" He groaned, sitting up. The headache that had ridden his temples for the past weeks was unabated. He was desperately thirsty, but they'd been on strict water rations. To find the closest water would mean braving Elysia, with tired and run down troops, but they were close to that level of desperation.

"Because she is. I'd recognize her anywhere, Rasmus."

Ras stood, steeling himself against the glare, and lifted the tent fly. She was like an apparition, a dream, until her golden eyes locked with his. She made a joyous sound, bolting towards him, and threw herself into his arms. "I found you!" She laughed, and his heart sank. It was true. She was here. How, he had no idea. And he just wanted to kill her for it.

"We have relief?" He asked warily, and his sergeant made a noncommittal sound.

"One of the small, fast response recon teams has found us, sir."

And that headache threatened to grow to cataclysmic proportions. "Moriah..." He was speechless. How could express just how horrified he was at her appearance here? She couldn't have done it alone, someone was to blame. And blame he would. Who was insane enough to have brought her this far?

"We have kisks! And flight potions! Food! Water..." And Ras's sergeant was looking at her like she was the second coming of Siel.

"We have locator tags." A whisper of a voice stated at Ras's side, and he glanced down at an assassin lurking in his shadow. "We've marked every stop along the way. I enabled them already, Lord Rasmus. Pandaemonium knows where we are, and how we got here."

"Are you the person who brought Moriah here?" Rasmus let the indignation he felt have full expression in his voice, and the assassin paused, considering, his hood pointed firmly in Moriah's direction. She had a rising flush that Ras recognized all too easily, she was mad. At him.

"Moriah brought herself here." The assassin noted calmly, "I certainly didn't carry her."

"Your name."

"My name?" The assassin chuckled, and threw his hood back, sliding his glasses over and glaring up at Rasmus. Several bystanders set up a wary murmur, but Rasmus had never seen this man before...at least, he didn't think so. The assassin breathed a perfect level of non-description, he was just a scrawny, small, unimpressive example of his race, the sort that made Rasmus wonder if Aion sometimes got it wrong when it blessed souls to become daeva. "Is Aseph."

If it was possible, Rasmus's mouth went even drier. He might not recognize the visage, but he knew the name. "General Aseph." The man was legendary, but Rasmus had never been on any of the fronts that he served on. And he never set foot in Pandaemonium, so there had never been any opportunity to know him socially.

"That's me. Moriah! You found him, now get the job done!"

"That's my ward you're ordering around..." Moriah had always been gently handled by the daeva who surrounded her, protected by Ras's influence and the High Priest's regard. She deserved better than that abrupt statement thrown in her direction like she was some sort of unascended servant.

The smaller man paused, his weight poised viciously on the balls of his feet, but his hands clasped behind his back without threat. "Lord Rasmus." He sighed, "I think you and I need to come to a very quick understanding. Moriah is your ward, indeed. She is also my unit's cleric. I will give her instructions until I release her from that service on Primum, do I make myself quite clear?"

"Nnnnnn..." His sergeant stepped on his foot, digging claws down, and Rasmus bit back his words. "I understand, General Aseph." He ground out, and the smaller man gave him a near smiling grimace in acceptance, clicked his heel claws together and bowed, on just the proper edge of insulting before he stalked away.

"What an ass." Rasmus grumbled and his sergeant shrugged. Off all of the forces for Moriah to have fallen in with, she'd left Primum with that? Now, he understood all too well why the man was not in Pandaemonium society...he was downright uncouth.

"Ass, but he gets the job done. No one else could have found us, sir."

And that was probably the truth. With everything that he knew, he didn't see how they had been found anyway. It was a miracle. If the miracle didn't come with Moriah being placed in this sort of danger, he would have celebrated it as the soldiers around him were.

"Ras?" And no matter how mad he got, he couldn't stay mad at her. He accepted the packet she offered up to him, he was starving...so thirsty, a shadow of his usual self.

"I'm sorry, Moriah. I just never, ever thought I'd see you here. Why are you?"

"I came to find you. You'd come to find me, you have before."

"There's a world of difference between going to Alsig to take you back from a few Lepharists, and going to the edge of Elysia during a Balaur push..." There was an edge in his voice that he would love to take back, and by her raised brow, she heard and interpreted it correctly, but she did not pause in pulling supplies from her Cube and setting them in a ponderous order before her. "You're supposed to be at the Convent."

"I left it."

Well, that was obvious. "And General Aseph?" She gave him a look he'd seen a thousand times before, on other women's faces. It was a look he'd been both eagerly looking forward to, and dreading, every day since she'd matured. It was classic, the slight flush, her teeth worrying her bottom, and the vaguely guilty look. Annlyn had worn that look when she was younger. "That?!" He whispered in disbelief. She had to mean the other one, the imposing gladiator...

"It looked that way, for a little bit. But I don't think so anymore." She gave him a slightly downcast look.

"You didn't, he didn't..." He was going to kill the man. He didn't care if Aseph really was one of the Governor's most prized combatants and Generals, they could find a replacement.

"No. We didn't. Nothing untoward, Rasmus." She picked up a pile of supplies and moved towards the gladiator, handing them out as she went along. Ras watched her go, eyes narrow. For the first time in their relationship he wasn't quite certain he believed her. The hint of a lie, a deception, or of a brushing off was there. Not quite your business, even if I did...which I didn't.

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to sleep. Drink his fill, and he'd feel better afterward.

"I'm sorry, I never expected..." Moriah sat next to him, and Aseph snorted in amusement.

"Never expected your guardian to be less than pleased that you traveled across half of Atreia, through the Abyss, through the Balaur, to the edge of Elysia, with two men you didn't know?"

She gave him a slightly narrow look, and he shrugged. He was in mood to pander to her, just like he'd been in no mood to pander to her guardian. He understood the man's reaction, but it was not Aseph's place to soothe his ruffled feathers. He was tired, but then, they all were. Tempers were short.

"Have I done something, Aseph? Something wrong?"

"No." She remained silent, and he shook his head. "No, Moriah, you've done nothing wrong. You've done everything right, in fact."

She played with the edge of her robes, and he noticed that they were fraying. They'd been new just weeks ago, and now, they were shabby, threadbare,stained and filthy. Half of her footclaws were shattered down to the quicks and poorly repaired, the beautiful knives she'd been wearing removed. The other side was the side she'd grabbed him with, and he flinched at the thought. "Moriah?"

"I thought..." Her chin trembled and she stared ahead, angrily fighting against the tears he heard in her voice. "I was foolish to think you liked me?"

"No." He glanced around, feeling furtive eyes on them. He'd always been a desperately private soul, but she was correct. He'd done the leading, she'd been amenable to his advances, and then... "Come here." He sighed, patting the patch of dust right next to him. She complied, sliding over, and he wrapped a companionable arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. "This run has been much harder than even I was expecting, Moriah. I never thought Tebber and Petric would bow out on me. It took much longer than I was expecting. I'm tired. You're tired." He buried his face in the plume of hair he loved so much, the point where the hair on her head became her mane.

"I smell badly." She noted wryly and he grinned, knowing she couldn't see his expression. Like this, no one could.

"As do I."

"I'm acting like an idiot."

"No. But now isn't the time, and here isn't the place. Right now I just want to focus on getting us back in one piece, Moriah. Then, we can figure things out. I don't want to say anything, do anything, when I feel like this. If I did, it would be the wrong thing... I know enough to see that."

"Fair enough. How long before we see support?" There were more troops here than Moriah had been expecting. Many of them were in poor shape, too poor to even contemplate a return trip the way that they had come. She wasn't certain if she was up to it either, and the option of transportation by suicide had passed. She was linked to the kisk in her Cube, she was going nowhere.

"Hopefully sooner than you'd think. We gave them weeks to set down the casting for this portal... If they haven't, heads will roll. I think you'll be back in Pandaemonium by tonight, honestly... we don't want to give the Elyos any more of an opportunity than they've already had here."

As if his very words had summoned it, a line of blue flame transcribed the largest flat plane in the encampment, growing slowly in a billow of shadow. "Portal!"

Moriah bounded to her feet, but Aseph was already halfway across the space to it by the time she was completely upright. He was joined, shoulder to shoulder, Soren on his right, and Rasmus to his left. It was a glorious sight, right in the depth of her soul, and she moved up behind the three most important men in her life, beginning to feel their health through the air around them. There was nothing for a long moment, and then a vanguard of Asmodian legionnaires stepped through, giant men with their shields locked before them, black wings unfurled over their backs. Another followed, just three strides behind them, and Moriah took a shortened breath in response. She had no idea who this man was, but he wafted power, confidence, and a vast presence with every motion. He wore ornate armor, but the gleam had been worn off of it a long time ago, it had seen wear, use...it was not for show. He pulled off his helm the moment he would have caught full sight of the three before him, he had the pale hair of a Asmodian blond, colorless as pure smoke.

"General Aseph." He had just the voice she would have guessed, deep, strong, commanding. Not harsh, but not at all melodic.

"Commander Summan." Aseph's response was wary and respectful. And, by his identification, he had every right to be... he might be a General, which was an impressive rank, but an Army Commander outshone that.

"Our concern was growing, General Aseph." The man gazed around the encampment, and then he squinted up into the pale blue sky. "But I see two things... one, you succeeded, and two, that you had to come to Elysia to do it. A job to be proud of. Take your squad and return to Primum, I'll hear your report there... and the report of the two who returned to Primum without you."

Aseph's expression settled into blank acceptance, and Moriah sighed. She didn't know what he had planned to report about that, and now it didn't matter. "As you command. Soren, Moriah, with me."

She nodded, falling into step behind him. The portal was a wisp of chill, and then, Primum just beyond it. There were hundreds of soldiers there, all with their attentions locked firmly on the point they appeared at. A second of tense silence reigned as they were measured, identified, and ragged applause followed. "General Aseph! They've been found?"

"The units have been located, and there are survivors. Now, if you do not mind..." He reached blindly behind him, shooing Moriah forward, "We have reports to make. Make ready for the evacuation."

He strode across the parade grounds, headed for the fortress headquarters complex, and Moriah hopped to keep up with him. It was an odd and heady experience to have grown soldiers step out of her way, even if she understood that Aseph was truly the one who commanded the respect. They were shown into a meeting room, blissfully dim and quiet, dominated by a large table and several chairs. Aseph settled into one, and she chose the one next to him after he glanced meaningfully at her and then dropped his eyes to it. Soren took the one directly across from him, leaning back, resting a clawed foot on his knee, folding his arms over his chest, and staring at the ceiling. Their unease was contagious, and Moriah counted her breaths. This couldn't wait? No dinner, no bath, no bed, no clean clothes or even a comb and a basin of fresh water? They'd done the near impossible, so why did it feel like the few times she'd been called into the dean's office to discuss her youthful shortcomings?

"After this." Aseph said when it seemed like the silence would go on forever. His voice startled Soren, who stared at him for a long moment. "I want you to return to Pandaemonium, Moriah. If you're asked, you are still attached to my unit. When word of this gets out..."

"You'll have every legion officer around trying to recruit you." Soren nodded slowly. "Fair assessment."

"And you?" Moriah had heard many, many times that Aseph didn't go to Pandaemonium. In fact, it seemed as if he'd never even been there, as difficult as that was for her to believe.

"I will be returning to Brusthonin to reset my obelisk..." The door opened, and he silenced immediately. Tebber was the first over the doorway, followed closely by Petric. Both of them looked beyond scolded, in fact, if Moriah had to find words to describe their demeanor, she'd lean towards terrified or whipped. The Army Commander, Summan, brought up the rear. He'd removed most of his armor, but none of his aura.

"I believe, General Aseph, that these two are yours..." He said without pause or greeting, moving without hesitation towards the massive chair at the head of the table and sitting there.

"They...were." Aseph stated cautiously. "What they are now remains to be determined."

"Are they deserters?"

Aseph froze, and Moriah did her best to remain expressionless, focusing her attention on the gleaming surface of the table. Deserters? That was a terrible crime, one that could take centuries to live down... "No." Aseph answered. "My people follow me voluntarily, Commander. The moment they choose not to, they are released. If they lose faith in my abilities, then I must have failed. But on this mission especially, if they lost sight of what we were after, then quite bluntly, I no longer wanted them along. After this, I may no longer want them in my unit. But they are not deserters, milord. This was not a normal mission..."

"Indeed it was not, General. But you are, or were, their commanding officer. If you say that they are not deserters, then they are not deserters. Enough said. Do you feel that the two of them served heroically, above and beyond the call, on this mission?"

"I...do not."

Tebber opened his mouth, obviously he meant to reply, but Petric only stared at him for a long, cold moment, and the ranger didn't let the reply go, but went back to scrutinizing the floor. "Then they are dismissed." That was more than enough for Petric, who grabbed Tebber's sleeve and forcefully pushed him to, and through, the door, closing it firmly behind them.

"Shame." The Commander breathed, "To sully a success like this one. But you are correct, General, we asked for a great deal. And your unit still delivered. This is Soren, and this..." His dark eyes fell squarely upon Moriah, "Must be Moriah, then. Lord Rasmus's ward, High Priest Balder's protegee. I've heard much of her, but seen little."

"This is Moriah." There was an edge to Aseph's voice, and Soren flinched.

"Aseph..." He warned, and Aseph stared right back at him. Neither seemed willing to back down, until the Commander chuckled, breaking the spell.

"If you've found a cleric who can keep up with you, General Aseph, then the absolute last thing in the world I want to see happen is to have someone else impress her out from underneath you. She's yours, I just wanted to be able to put a face to the name. Your plans now are..?"

"A breather. Down time, unless there's something direly important that needs us this very moment. I need to rekisk. I need to take a long, hard look at my personnel issues..."

"You need to consider reporting to Pandaemonium." The sentence was gently presented, but founded in steel. "Your refusal to do so is bordering on insubordination, General. Especially after this report..." The man slapped a leather folder, tied in red ribbons, on the tabletop. "...Makes it way to the Capital. It's going to be damned difficult to give you a home grant in Pandaemonium when you won't go there to receive it. And it would be beyond gauche..." His glance fell firmly on Soren, then slid to Moriah, "To grant the ones to your subordinates before you receive yours."

A home grant. Moriah felt her eyes widen, as much as she fought to maintain her composure. A home. In Pandaemonium. That was beyond a gift, it was a stellar honor... It would free her from the increasing hints of Rasmus's family that it was time to leave his care, free her from the assumption that she would move to the Convent. Once there, there would be more assumptions, and Moriah was tired of following other peoples' assumptions.

"I can assume that you will forward your report in due time, General." The man stood, "But it would be most happily received delivered by your own hand...to the Capital Building." He tucked the folder under his arm, nodded to Aseph and Soren, and swept into a graceful bow to Moriah before he strode out of the door.

The silence in his wake was deafening, and suddenly Moriah was very tired of it all. Or she was just tired, she wasn't certain which. "I'm going home." She sighed, standing. "I want a bath. My own bed. Food."

"I will send word." Aseph muttered gloomily, and she shrugged, leaving and striding down the ominously dark corridor. She was airborne before her feet hit the parade ground, and through the ring to Morheim before anybody had the opportunity to slow her progress. And just minutes after Morheim, she appeared in Pandaemonium, home again.


	9. Chapter 9

Why he kept returning here, Aseph had no clue. Everybody that he had ever known here was long dead. "I promised you I would never forget." He breathed, crouching before the worn stone. It had been bright, pale and sharp...it seemed like it had been that only yesterday. But now it was weathered, growing lichen, leaning dangerously. "Wayla."

But he had forgotten. Try as he might, he couldn't remember what she had looked like. What she had sounded like. What she had been like. She had been important enough to risk his life for, once. But now she just a shadowy memory that haunted him. And even that was less and less. When he closed his eyes now, he saw another. A woman that he remembered all too well what she looked like. What she sounded like. One imminently suited to match his destiny and his station. "I can't keep doing this." He told the stone, and it gave him the same comforting silence he was long accustomed to. "Every moment I let him hold me away from Pandaemonium is another moment he controls me. He's not my better anymore. I know you hated it, but Wayla, I am what I am." What he'd been every moment since he'd jumped and hadn't died. He wasn't a fool. He knew that the moment he had ascended, that the young woman he'd had his eyes on back then had fallen by the wayside. Too much had happened in that moment, even if he'd been willing to forgive her. And back then, he might have done just that...for a couple of decades. But again, she'd turned away...he'd seen it in her eyes. It had been easier to just run. And then fly. Far from here. "I'd tell you you'd like her, but I don't think so." He sat on the sparse grass next to the stone, running his claws through his hair. No, Moriah was everything that Wayla had wanted to be, but never would have been. Beautiful. Graceful. Gentle. Strong. And most importantly, blessed by Aion. "I am going to Pandaemonium." He stated firmly. He was done with this. Done with here. It was high time he behaved like exactly what he was, a daeva, blessed, and a General.


	10. Chapter 10

Moriah had been lucky, the house had been empty when she'd arrived. She'd stripped away the ruined robes, the battered armor, and had soaked away the worst of weeks of filth in hot water scented with ampreh oil. She'd been too exhausted to consider finding food, and had simply rolled herself up in her covers and slept the sleep of the dead.

"Moriah." The voice was gentle, but it had the hint that it had repeated itself more than once. "Come on, sleepyhead, time to wake up."

"Rasmus?" She opened her eyes to dimness. Her curtains were pulled shut, but there was a blade of illumination from the hallway window, visible through her open door. But she could sense his comforting bulk, sense his smile even though he was just a darker shadow.

"Time for breakfast. I will warn you...Annlyn is here, and she is most put out with you."

"She didn't want me to come after you." Moriah had never been this stiff, this sore, in her entire life. Somehow it hadn't been this bad on the way out, but now that she had truly slept, every muscle she had screamed dissension.

"Well, it can't be said now that she has absolutely no sense. She had that one right." His shadow moved into the light, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, then shrugged. "Moriah. Please, don't ever do it again. I love you as if you were my own blood." He closed the door behind him, and she growled, settling back into the depths of the luxurious bed. It was a struggle to drag herself from it, an even larger struggle to decide on a dress and descend the stairs.

"Moriah." There was a level of condemnation in Annlyn's voice that Moriah had little experience with. The woman looked perfect, as always, but her glare was far from proper. "Well, I suppose I should be thankful...that you both returned alive and..." her eyes fell on Moriah, trying to lower herself into a chair with the least amount of pain, "Mostly intact. What's wrong with you?"

"Flew a bit. Fought a bit. Slept on some rocks. Flew a bit more. Slept on some more rocks." Suddenly ravenous, Moriah began to pile food on her plate, ignoring Annlyn's sickened fascination. "Stiff."

"So, I have to know." Annlyn leaned forward, lacing her fingers together, a play of prismatic color from the stones in her rings shining against the wall. "Who told you he was missing? I will kill them, I swear."

"You did."

Rasmus burst into laughter, and he buried his face in his hands. "What?" He managed through sputters.

"I came home and overheard her talking to the High Priest. I started that night. Gathered all of the gear I thought I would need, found out where I needed to go, and left before dawn."

"You're safe." He frowned, studying the remains of his own meal as if it had some answers he'd desperately like to get from it. "Moriah, what you did was foolish. No, it was more than that. It was idiotic. I can't express how very disappointed I am with you..."

Annlyn's disapproval was no more vicious to her than the beat of a butterfly's wings against her cheeks, but Rasmus's words were a spear to the gut. "Well." She was shocked at the even serenity of her own voice, even if her stomach crawled uncomfortably into the back of her throat. "At least you're here alive so that you can be disappointed and express that disappointment to me." She considered throwing her plate, just for the show, but again that serenity held her and she merely picked it up when she stood. "You're welcome, Rasmus. I think I'll take breakfast in my room, thank you."

Once she'd made it up the stairs, and through the door, the serenity faded and she let go of a blistering cacophony of profanities, yanking the curtains open and stepping onto the small balcony beyond. Her knees turned to water and she buried her face in the velvet fall of fabric, bitter tears soaking into them.

There was the heavy tread of feet in the hallway, and a knock. "No!" She hissed at the door, "I do not want to talk to you!" I love you.

"Fine." He growled, and she heard him stalk away, back downstairs. A few moments later, the front door below her opened, and slammed close, and she glared when he became visible. If he felt it, he gave no acknowledgment, disappearing around the bend of the roadway. "Bastard."

"Difficult morning already?"

She'd know that voice anywhere, pitched to make it difficult to overhear. The shadows loved him, held him, and obscured him from the curious on the street below.

"Aseph." In Pandaemonium?

"Aseph. In Pandaemonium." He said it as if he'd heard her thoughts spoken aloud. "He adores you, you know."

"I know."

"Heh. You going to eat this?"

"You can have some of it. But yes, I am going to eat the rest." She sat down next to him, her back up against the doors, the plate between them. "I didn't expect to see you here, ever. And I didn't expect to hear from you for awhile."

"Hmmn." His voice dropped, and he shushed her with a quickly raised finger. "Annlyn." He whispered, pulling back to hide from view. She tilted her head, hearing nothing, until finally a soft knock, almost a scratch.

"Moriah? Please?" The door cracked, and Annlyn peered around. "Ah. I have to go, but I was thinking, maybe we could do some shopping later?"

Shopping? Moriah was ready for a scathing reply, except that Aseph gave a suddenly sharp, affirming nod. Was he insane? Go shopping with Annlyn? "That would be nice." She didn't actually say that, did she? But Annlyn's radiant smile was almost worth it. "See you this afternoon, then!" Annlyn laughed, shutting the door. The second it was closed, Aseph moved into the room, far out of sight of the windows.

"Nothing worse than a social butterfly with an assassin's calling." He grumbled, leaning against a wall. "Tell me when she's gone."

"Gone." Moriah noted when she had followed Rasmus's path away. "Why the hell did I just agree to go shopping with her?"

He gave her an uncertain look, wary and shy suddenly. "Because I thought you might need a gown." He whispered, reaching under his coat and pulling out an envelope. He stared it for a long moment, before frowning and handing it to her. "If you'll be my escort, of course."

She slid open the envelope, and the invitation within was high society, hand embossed, the finest paper, the Governor's seal. Annlyn received these often, but Moriah never had. "Or even not... You have your own invitation, I mean I have your invitation, you'd still need a gown..." He faded into an uncomfortable silence.

"I'd be honored to be your escort."

He sat, nodding in ill disguised relief. "I imagined this as going much more gracefully than it is." He admitted ruefully. "Moriah, I have to admit, I do not understand how to do this. For the love of all that's holy, you have to help me do this right."

"Right?"

"This is important." And he was quite correct, it was. A ball, in his honor, given by the Governor. All eyes would be on him, he was an enigma, an unknown quantity.

"Do you have money?" It was a crass question to ask, the assumption should always be that he did, of course.

"I...do. Why? You need me to pay for the gown?"

"Gah, no. That's what Annlyn is for." She bolted down her half of the breakfast, "I need you to pay for the jewelry. It's supposed to come with the invitation, by courier, in the evening."

"Oh, right. If you say so."


	11. Chapter 11

It was an odd and ironic trip, her first real day back, and she was retracing her steps to Rasmus's favorite jeweler. "Moriah." Sturgin greeted grumpily, almost exactly where she'd left him. "And...some unknown and downright disreputable looking sort."

Aseph snorted in amusement, relaxing slightly at the lack of respect. The jeweler only stared back, narrow eyed, before he studied Moriah. "Took you just two months to destroy a set of my masterwork claw knives? Shame, young lady. Did you bring them to be repaired?"

"No, not yet. Actually, I've brought him here. Sturgin, this is General Aseph."

That most certainly got his attention, he rested his work on the table next to him, followed by his loupe, and stood. "General Aseph. I'm honored. Why have you come here?"

"The Governor is having a ball in honor of the recovery of the Asteria units. I've asked Moriah to be my escort for this. She's of the mind that this entitles her to jewels."

The older man laughed outright, and Moriah gazed at him sourly. "Delivered by courier, in the evening, to her home?"

"Ah, yes..?" Now he was staring at her like he thought she was deceiving him, suspicious.

"Oh, don't give her that look. She's correct. A General asks her to bloom on his arm, at a ball in his honor, that does get the girl jewels. And the joy of getting them sent to her in front of Annlyn, as well. It's how you show her family that you're on the up and up. Also..." He moved behind the counter, "It's this girl's first true social engagement, General. Not too much to ask. A little out of the ordinary that she's here, but..." He shrugged, resting narrow drawers from the cabinet behind him on the counter.

"Make your choice, General... oh, and Moriah, we'll take it from here. Shoo."

"Shoo?"

"Shoo. At least let there be some surprise in this. Isn't there something else you need to shop for?"

Annlyn was waiting when she returned, "I was surprised you said yes." She noted when Moriah fell into step beside her, out onto the beautiful streets of Pandaemonium. "But your clothes are beginning to look quite frightful. You can't keep scaring the young men away, unless you mean to return to the Convent?"

"No, I think I'm done there." She was a little surprised when Annlyn smiled at the statement. "I thought you wanted me out of Rasmus's house."

"I do. Doesn't mean I want you to take up permanent residence at Marchutan. I was more thinking of a nice apartment... Moriah, not that look. You have no intention of being with Rasmus, do you? Not like that. And he still persists in viewing you as a child. But your presence in his home makes everyone believe that you are being groomed as his consort. As long as society thinks that, the good women he'd want give him a wide berth. If I can get the two of you apart, maybe both of you have a chance to find someone..."

One day, Moriah would be able to not give something away to Annlyn. She just wasn't certain when, but it definitely wasn't that day. "Oh." The woman breathed. "I know that look. Is this unrequited, or does he know?"

No. She was not going to do this. She clenched her teeth and stared ahead, maybe if she thought of absolutely nothing...nothing at all, she could get through the day without spilling her guts. "Moriah! You can't do this to me. Does he know? Or do we have to let him know, gently? Please tell me he's not married!"

"He's not married." Soren would have most certainly let her know that one.

"Good, good, good. You're a little too young for that, yet. Does he know?"

"He knows." It was going to be a long, long, long afternoon... "We go in here." She sighed, turning Annlyn slightly to the shop she was actually headed towards. There was no way to hide this part, and like it or not, Annlyn was the best.

"This is not quite what I had in mind, Moriah." Annlyn stated, stepping over the threshold into the dressmaker's. "Is there a reason why you'd want to look at formal gowns?"

"There are rumors this morning that the first invitations for a Governor's Ball have gone out, Lady Annlyn. Perhaps your ward has her ear to those?" The dressmaker stepped out from the backroom at their voices, a serene smile painted on her face.

"Really? Well, then, we'll both be looking!"

In spite of Moriah's concerns, it was good to just be out with Annlyn, shopping and laughing. The pair of them spilled into the house, giddy, and Rasmus gave them both an equally indulgent look over the book he was reading in the front room. "Well, you two seem to have made up." He sighed. "Moriah, my apologies. I...you scared the wits out of me. Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive." She hugged him, "If you don't get into trouble like that any more, then I won't have to come looking for you again."

"Oh, she has you there!" Annlyn laughed, and then stopped at the knock at the door. "Are we expecting someone?"

"No." Rasmus said, shaking his head, twisting in the couch to peer out of the curtains. "Oh. Courier." He dismissed. "Odd that they came here for you, Annlyn..."

"Not for me." Annlyn smiled, "Unless I miss my guess, that would be for Moriah. But I will open the door..." She did so, gracefully. "Yes? Lady Moriah? Of course, she's right here."

Really happening. She could feel Rasmus's intent stare, Annlyn's radiant smile. Just walk up and take it. She knew, why was she shaking? No surprise. "Thank you." She murmured, accepting the ribbon tied box and falling back behind Annlyn, too overwhelmed to even remember to give the boy a tip. Annlyn did it for her, and moved up beside her, giving her a quizzical and excited grin.

"You're not surprised...right? You gave me enough hints today."

"I'm not surprised, no." She sat on the couch next to Rasmus. It shouldn't be this odd, but it was. "It's just..."

"A rather big deal. I know. Open it!"

The box was larger than she'd been expecting, an armful even for her. She pulled the ribbon loose, and opened it.

"Flowers, nice touch... I love the smell of ampreh blossoms."

As did Moriah, in fact... She rested her nose against her forearm, and took a deep breath. Yes, it was there, still clinging, and Annlyn's eyes widened in realization. "It's the scent you wear, you told him?"

"No." She hadn't. And she hadn't been wearing it on her trip to Morheim, and had certainly not on the trip through the Abyss. She'd worn it today, and only today around him. "He must have noticed it." She lifted the carved wooden box and opened it. On some level, she'd hoped for something that Annlyn and Rasmus would be at least somewhat impressed with. Something substantial enough to gain respect from Annlyn, nothing childish or halfhearted. It was small of her, shallow of her, but the truth nonetheless. And he did not disappoint.

"That's...lovely, Moriah. Can I finally ask now that you have the invitation in your hand? I'm dying to know." Annlyn was all but squirming, like a truly excited child.

Rasmus stared, blinked, and raised a brow. "I thought the man hated Pandaemonium."

"His presence has been strongly requested here." She shrugged, opening the invitation, and passing it to Annlyn.

"General Aseph?" She sputtered, and suddenly Moriah remembered the comment that he'd made just weeks ago, but it had faded away like it was years ago. Something about turning Annlyn down...? "The assassin General? The one I went to..." She shrank visibly, biting her lip. "Yes, I've met him. Once. He got a little terse with me, but I'm sure he's a wonderful person, Moriah. Really. What?"

"Nothing."

"He told you, didn't he?" Annlyn grimaced. "Fine, I went to Morheim to seduce the wayward General Aseph. His response, as I said, was terse and quite negative. He turned me down."

"Am I missing something here? I've seen the man. I'm not impressed. He's weedy. I know that he's a hell of a combatant, that he earned his rank, but I don't know anything about his family, his breeding, his upbringing... He's not social at all. He's..."

"Very mysterious and distant." Annlyn giggled, "No, Rasmus, I went there because he was an up and coming young general who was actively avoiding society. I wanted to see, and I wanted to be the first, I admit. But you're right, he's not the most attractive I've ever seen. But..." She wrapped her arms around Moriah's shoulders. "I've seen very attractive young daeva try to turn Moriah's head, and fail miserably. You always have told me she sees deeper than the surface, maybe you should listen to yourself on occasion."

"I still don't know anything about his upbringing, his family..." Honest concern engraved his features, and Moriah gazed at him.

"I am the daughter of two dirt farmers. I was born into poverty, and raised in it. My brother was a Lepharist. Upbringing? Family? Rasmus, I don't really have the ground to hold Aseph's humble start against him. I understand him so much better than I understand most of the men here. He will never be inclined to look down on where I came from, either. But I like him." It was odd to be looking at Annlyn for support, but that was exactly what Moriah found herself doing.

"Rasmus." Annlyn corralled the plush ottoman and pushed it close to his side. "Everything she has said is valid. And there are much worse reasons to pick a first paramour than every reason she gave. Moriah's got a solid head on her shoulders, she's of age, and you have to admit, Aseph has an impressive reputation. He's not out there chasing tail, in fact, I would hazard a guess to say that they'll be each others' first paramours, which is... sweet. And when it's over in a decade or so, he'll be a valuable person to know."

That was about the least romantic, most pragmatic reasoning that Moriah had ever heard, but she was well aware that Annlyn masterminded her choice of lovers like most Generals masterminded their wars.

"He's insolent. Disrespectful."

"He's a General. Of course he's cheeky, he's worth his tail. You'd hate it if she picked a boy." She grinned at Moriah, and Rasmus sighed in defeat, holding up his hands.

"I..." There was another knock at the door, and he made a disgusted sound, again parting the curtains and glancing out. "Again, for you, Moriah." He said, "And I see I'm getting no reading done here tonight. I'll be in the upstairs library if I'm needed... But I give, Annlyn. I won't complain."

"Uh huh." Annlyn watched him go, then turned to stare at the door when Moriah opened it again. Soren stood outside, agitated and blatantly annoyed.

"Moriah, thank Asphel I found you! Look, I am not sure what's going on, but Aseph is going to explode when he hears this... Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He looked at Annlyn behind her, "This is your guardians' house, I... damn."

"Come on in. What is Aseph going to explode about?"

"I just received an invitation to a..." His eyes landed firmly on the invitation open on the couch. "You know already. They're going to try to pressure Aseph to come to Pandaemonium. Or flat out order him to..."

"Aseph is already in Pandaemonium. Or was this morning."

"Not possible."

"Unless Aseph has a twin brother no one has bothered to tell me about, I saw him this morning. I shared my breakfast with him this morning. I agreed to be his escort to this..." She picked up the invitation and rattled it in his direction. "This morning. I took him to a jeweler, this morning. I'm pretty certain I saw Aseph. Here. This morning."

"He finally broke down?" Wonder and relief crossed his features. "Truly? We'll have a home grant here? That's... wait, he asked you what?"

"To be his escort."

"Fantastic. You say he was in Pandaemonium... do you think he's left?"

"I honestly doubt it. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd start looking for him in the tailors' shops." Somewhere, somebody must have brought that up to him.

Soren stared at her, bemused. "Look for Aseph in the tailors' shops of Pandaemonium." He echoed her words. "There's just something truly, dreadfully wrong that I believe that statement enough to actually go do it." He bowed to Annlyn, and was gone.

"Now that's a fine looking example." Annlyn chuckled, "But you didn't so much as bat an eyelash. It's really that way, eh? Oh, well...you know what you want. I'm just excited for you, Moriah. Today has been a rare treat, finally..."

"I'm sorry, Annlyn. I've treated you badly." And she had.

"Ah, none of that. When I see you walk into the Assembly Building, on a General's arm, it will all be worth it. When we put ribbons and gems in your hair, and you don't fight me over it, it will all be worth it. Remember, Moriah, out there is only half the fight. I know Rasmus would like to deny it every day, but this is important. Who you know. Who you can count on. Yes, even who you've brought into your bed. See and be seen. You're right with this, nothing could be better than for you to find a man from poor beginnings, but as blessed and gifted as you are. You will be equal to him. I've taught you enough to help him through this. So... My teachings have put you in a position to have a General indebted to you." She reached out, arranging a stray wisp of curl that had escaped Moriah's loose braid, and there was overt victory in her eyes when she stared up at Moriah. "That's all I ever wanted to give you, Moriah. Those are the tools, the weapons, that I wanted to teach you to use. But..." Her face fell back into sudden contemplation, "What's this I hear about home grants? That man definitely said 'we'll'... who did he mean, precisely?"

"I'm not certain. Aseph, beyond a doubt, but I got the impression it was all three of us."

"So, your new paramour beyond a doubt, and the chance of you as well. Time to start discussing neighborhoods, my dear."


	12. Chapter 12

Aseph had been surprised to find a rather nice and cozy inn just around the corner from Moriah's guardian's home and had settled in for the duration. It was better than wandering aimlessly around a foreign city, and it was a good place. Not as snobby as he'd been dreading, just an inn. In fact, this whole area was not what he'd been expecting. Certainly Rasmus's home was luxurious,from what he'd seen of it, but he would never describe it as opulent. He wasn't surprised, however, when Soren walked in, the man's dark eyes scanning the room until they settled on Aseph holding the back corner table. "There you are." Soren greeted, sliding into the chair across from him and staring at him like he would a menagerie animal. "She's right."

"Who?"

"Moriah. She said she'd seen you in Pandaemonium, and I damned near called her a liar to her face."

"Hmmm. No, I spoke to her this morning, when she decided to set me back a goodly amount of kinah."

He'd expected a confused look in response, but Soren only snorted. "If you asked her to escort you to this..." He slapped his own invitation down on the table between them, "Then yes. Her guardian should be responsible for the gown and such. But you, my friend, are on the hook for the jewels. Not as if you can't afford it. You changed your mind, my friend..."

Aseph bowed his head. "I feel free to carry on my own vendettas as long as I please, Soren. To harm myself with them. But this..." He picked up Soren's invitation and smacked it edge first on the table, nodding at the sound. "Involves you, and now, Moriah. You deserve this. And now I grasp that Moriah is not nearly as well off as I had originally thought. She has nothing that is truly her own, she's a well beloved charity case. I'm a bigger person than that, Soren. I still let him control my life, but I'll be damned if I let the bastard affect yours. Affect hers."

"I hope you know what you're getting into, Aseph. What have you done so far?"

"Spent money." Aseph noted wryly, refilling his goblet. "Moriah's jewelry, a tailor. Tomorrow I need to convince her that I can't dance and throw myself on her mercies for that."

"It's all just another challenge, General." Soren shrugged. "If these peacocks can master it, then you can at least become adept at it. Anyway, means you'll get to put your hands on her again...and you'll hate that."

"Snide."

"No, just putting out the bright lining to this dark cloud. You'll have a paramour now. A fine one. And you can shove that right into that bastard's face, Aseph, and give it a good rub for good measure. Whichever bastard it happens to be... and yes, thank you. A house in Pandaemonium... I'll do whatever you need from me to help."

To help. By late the next morning, Aseph was regretting his decision, staring at the scuffed floor of a dance salon just off of Vanahal. I am not afraid of this. He could do this. If pretty little daevas of art and sculpture could dance, then he could. If Soren could, then he could. He heard a satiny rustle, and set his jaw. Could. Would.

"Ah, the ladies have arrived, good, we can get started."

Ladies? He looked up and blinked. The two, Moriah and Annlyn, were almost identically dressed, in simple tops and immense, billowing skirts. "You brought Annlyn?" He muttered when Moriah smiled at him.

"You brought Soren." She noted, dragging the mass of fabric along with her progress. "Annlyn taught me to dance. She's being a big help."

"As are you, thank you. Can I ask what the skirt is for, or is it just fashion?" He had no idea. For all he knew, this was the current rage in Pandaemonium for afternoon wear.

"No. You'll never learn how not to step on, or claw through, skirts unless you're taught with one. That goes for you, too. You'll be fine, Aseph. You're an assassin. Fast on your feet. Just..." She stepped up, closely, and he caught the smell of ampreh blossoms again. "One hand here." She took his hand and rested it on her side, just above the flow of fabric, "Other hand holds mine, and, relax..."

He doubted very much that she would say that if she knew what he was thinking, and more importantly, trying not to think. It had been a long, long time, and now he had an armful of extremely attractive young woman, and hopefully she wouldn't realize just how distracted he truly was. It was going to be a long, long afternoon.

.`.`.`.`.`.`.

"What has you so amused?" Moriah finally demanded after Soren and Aseph had gone, and the underlying smirk that had been on Annlyn's face for hours was set free. She dropped the heavy and annoying dance skirt into a pool on the floor and slid into a much less expansive skirt.

"Were you aware of just how attracted that man is to you?"

"Aseph?" At least Moriah hoped Annlyn was referring to Aseph...she didn't quite know what she'd do if Soren was the man in question. But Soren had seemed more than pleased to dance with Annlyn as a example...

"Yes. Because if you think he wants a nice little relationship, where you get the shinies and he gets yourself on his arm, and what you've learned for me, you will be in a world of shock when he escalates."

"He's already escalated. If anything, he's being much more circumspect than he ever was before. I know what he wants, Annlyn. He made that clear enough. Aseph isn't playing...well, this part..." she picked up the skirt and shook it, "May be. But out there, in the Abyss, no. He was pretty damn forward."

"Good."

Annlyn had the gift to say the exact opposite of what Moriah expected, quite often, and that was a fine example. "Good?"

"Indeed. Nothing is more unbalancing than that terrible moment when you realize you've gotten yourself in much deeper than you expected. The man wants to take you to his bed. He's made that clear. You understand it. I respect that. I hate the pretty ones who hold you at a distance until they get you in private, and then you need to remind them forcefully that your brother is a very large templar who will use them as target practice. So, I have to ask...why him? Rasmus is correct, he's..."

"Scrawny."

"Fair measure, yes."

"It will sound stupid, Annlyn." She packed the skirt away in her bag, shaking her head. Her teachers had taught her to follow those voices as true insight from Aion, but Annlyn was another matter altogether.

"Try me anyways. None of the reasons why I went after him are ones you would consider. I'm guessing you have a deeper reason, even though he does grow on you after awhile. Especially when he smiles."

"He has lovely eyes. But no, the first moment I saw him, and I had the...eh... scrawny...response, I heard Aion. I was told that inside, he had the soul of a great hero. And for some reason, I like him."

"Hmmm." The last thing that Moriah was expecting was a noncommittal response from Annlyn. She understood Rasmus's all too normal doubts so much more. "On one hand, Moriah, my hope was that you would step gently into this. Find a nice, older, established man looking for a young paramour for a couple of years. The next step in your wardship, if you will. One you could like, get a feel for, and remain friends with afterward. A mentor. So that when you fell for someone, you'd have a little more wear on your claws than this... Aseph is fairly young, and all the asking around I've done tells me he's most certainly not the experienced, older, established friend I was hoping for you. Falling hard means that afterward is a long slow path back up, and I don't want to see you involved in a bloody angry ex relationship with a rising General. That could take generations to get calmed over. But I have eyes, Moriah. He's here. You've fallen for him. He's fallen for you. Stopping it now is not an option. And if you believe that Aion spoke to you about him, and said that, then I have no footing to complain from. I'm just afraid, Moriah. When you live forever, hating someone takes on a whole new aspect."

And that was all too true. Pandaemonium was filled with feuds that spanned mortal generations, even Aseph's refusal to come here was rooted in one. Decades, centuries, and they still simmered, waiting to flare. They were daeva, and they'd not been blessed to be docile sorts. They'd been blessed to be weapons. Vicious, high strung weapons, covered in a veneer of high society.

"But enough of that, young lady. We have fittings."

"More pins?"

"More pins."

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

Aseph stared at a stranger in the mirror before him. A thin, dark haired, completely clean shaven stranger wearing the finest clothing that kinah could buy in Pandaemonium. "You clean up well enough." Soren laughed. "Just think of something else."

Something else. Everything that would cross his mind was somehow related to this. Moriah. The sword edged rage of memories flowing too close to the surface. He'd been in Pandaemonium for a whole week, with no incidents. But then, he also knew he'd seen little of the city, sticking close to Moriah, and Crandale. And he'd been subtle, doing his best to stay away from places he'd be recognized at. That ended tonight. "So, Annlyn?" That had been a surprise he hadn't seen coming. And it was indeed something else to think about.

"Mutually beneficial. And we've been spending so much time with you that we rather ran out of time to find other escorts, and I am one of the honorees. Almost as desirable as you tonight, my friend. Have a fine time, Aseph. Whatever you've got on your mind, let it go."

I will try.

"It's time." And it felt like he was going into battle, not a party in his own honor. He felt like the world's biggest fool when he stepped out onto the streets of Crandale, and the stares he got from passersby only reinforced that unease. He was over dressed. His tailor was wrong. He was going to be a joke, laughed out of Pandaemonium.

There were fewer stares when they turned out of Crandale, making their way towards the plaza before the Assembly Building. Suddenly, he was no longer over dressed, or under dressed. Every young male he passed was on the same level and he took a deep breath, watching the young ladies sweep along in a breath of perfume and a cascade of silks and manes. Every dress seemed to be backless, a foil for the fall that had always grabbed his attention and firmly held it.

"Yes, I know, you're a tail man... and there are plenty of them there." Soren joked, "You know women have fronts, right?" He described a fictional bounty over his own chest with his hands, and Aseph just stared at him. He was in no mood to defend something so ephemeral as what he considered attractive in a woman. Ever since he was a youngster, that had been what he had focused on. Wayla had possessed a fine fall, pale as moonlight...

He yanked himself back from that precipice. No. He was not going there. He fell into step with the flow of beautifully dressed souls moving through the twilight, staring up at the majestic center of his people's unity, their city, their army, their government. It was a glorious sight, towering over him.


End file.
